Queering McKinley
by xanman
Summary: Sticking up for what is right helps everyone. Eventual Kurtofsky.
1. Tripping fairies

"Oh my god, that was killer!" Kurt said, breathless as he skipped alongside Blaine. "I mean, we WON and it was all because of my girls! The jocks will NEVER live this down! It was even better than the win I delivered them last year! Did I ever tell you I was on the football team for, like, a nanosecond? One, brilliant WINNING nanosecond." Blaine was grinning, totally enjoying his friend's happiness. It had been a while since he'd seen Kurt so loose.

"I can't picture you in a football uniform," he said.

"I rocked it," boasted Kurt, still riding high, "I was totally hot. Tight little pants, big shoulder pads - the perfect blend of formidable and fabulous."

By this point, Blaine was outright laughing. "Hey," protested Kurt in mock outrage. "Watch it, you'll hurt my feelings!" He delivered a shove with a grin. Both boys giddy from the game win, the shove rapidly turned into a playful skirmish punctuated with whoops and laughter. They rounded the corner in a tight battle for possession of Blaine's tartan scarf and crashed into an immoveable wall of letterman jackets that sent them tumbling to the ground.

"Well, well, well, what have we here, Karofsky?" drawled a familiar voice. Kurt scrambled up and realized with a sinking feeling that he was once again pinned in an abandoned corner by his 2 chief nemeses. And with Finn having gone to celebrate with the team, no one was going to come to the rescue. Absently, he wondered if Blaine's poise was owing to years of killer kung fu training…

Dave barely looked at the pair, "Couple of clumsy fairies. Trip along little fairies…" He made to turn away, but Azimio stopped him. "Hold up now. Their clumsy looks pretty tangled to me." He eyed the scarf that Kurt had managed to loop around Blaine's waist. "What's this? Boy bondage, bumping into me? That's disgusting. I say we teach them a lesson." He slammed one enormous fist into the other. Blaine slowly untangled his scarf and looped it back round his neck. He didn't say a word. Kurt, incapable of such prudence, tried for blaze, "Bondage? I had no idea you were so kinky."

Before Azimio could reply, Dave stepped more firmly between them. "Shut it, Kurt," he said. "Man, let's just go."

"What're you talkin' about? I can't let them get away with that kind of disrespect to my person!"

"Seriously. Leave it. Anything happens to them and I'm expelled again." Dave tried to guide his friend away.

"Man, what is wrong with you? We break their jaws and they won't be talkin'. Since when do you back down from a fight, anyways? You goin' all fairy on me?"

"Yeah, I'm goin' all fairy," Dave sneered, trying to inject some sarcasm into the words. "But the difference between these ladyboys and me is that I'm a BIG fucking fairy, so unless you want me to mess you up, leave them alone."

Azimio's mouth hung open for a moment, then he grinned and slugged Dave's shoulder. "Big fuckin' fairy. Man, I have missed your sense of humour! Seriously, now, which one d'you wanna take? Curly or girly?"

"I mean it, Zee. No one touches them." Dave took a step in to his friend. If Azimio didn't back down now, this was going to get bad…

"What the fuck, man?" Azimio cast a glance behind Dave, to where Kurt and Blaine still stood shoulder to shoulder, warily taking in the proceedings. "This some kind of crazy gay voodoo? You sprinkle fairy glitter on him or something? Cause I know my boy'd never side against me … not with a couple of fags."

Kurt's eyes squinted a little, telegraphing that he was about to let loose a stream of eloquent, cutting - and seriously unhelpful - invective. Blaine grabbed his hand and squeezed it in warning, but before Kurt could do more than take a breath, Dave interrupted.

"I can't get expelled again."

Azimio looked back at him, confusion battling with anger. Finally, he stepped away. "Fine. Let's go. But this is not done." He shot the boys a glare before storming away. Dave followed reluctantly, a couple steps behind, hands shoved deep in his pockets. And Kurt was astounded to note that the look he shot over his shoulder was no glare, it looked … regretful.


	2. Daisy chain

"C'mon, Finn. Hurry up. I haven't seen my dad in a week." Kurt tagged along after Finn and Sam, trying to avert his nose from the scent of a hard practice wafting behind them.

On entering the change room, he saw that Azimio and a couple other big guys he didn't recognize had Dave against a locker. It looked like they'd caught him coming out of the shower, because he was wearing only a towel. Kurt blinked. Shirtless Dave looked … erm … different than he might have expected.

"Azimio. You turning on your own now that you've lost your favorite punching bag?" Finn said.

Azimio looked over to where the three newcomers had stopped. He threw Kurt a nasty look. "Not my favorite punching bag. Conspicuously Karofsky's, though, wouldn't you say?" He punctuated this with a couple of rough pats of Dave's cheek.

"Leave me alone." But the words held more panic than heat; Dave was pinned.

"What're you talking about?" said Finn.

"Ask your baby brother," Azimio replied. "He's gone turned my man gay."

"Yeah," chimed in the blonde thug to the left of Karofsky. "So we're checking to see whether being a big fucking fairy's completely neutered him."

Dave's panicked eyes briefly met Kurt's. Oh my god, they're going to assault him, thought Kurt. He opened his mouth. "Awesome."

That froze everyone. "Uh, what?" muttered Sam.

Kurt took a steadying breath before forging on. "Awesome." He started unbuttoning his coat. "You know, the rumours that Dalton is a homo heaven are, disappointingly, completely exaggerated. I had no idea that all I had to do to get a little action was stick with the football team."

"What?"

"Kurt, what the fuck are you doing?" Dave demanded. "Yeah," Finn chimed, concerned.

"I should think that would be obvious," he said, dropping his coat to the floor and starting on his cardigan. Thank Gaga he's worn layers today. "I'm joining in. Dalton has done nothing for my sex life. An orgy should catch me up nicely."

"Orgy?" "Fuck, man!" The bullies couldn't let go of Dave fast enough.

Kurt continued slowly undressing. "I've got to hand it to you, Dave. Come out on a Friday and one week later, guys are all over you? That's some serious pull. I'm jealous."

"Fuck, man, I'm outta here." One of the bullies bolted from the room. "We were not all over him!" Azimio protested.

"Oh baby, don't worry about it," Kurt said sympathetically. "I already knew you were kinky, so this isn't that much of a stretch. Now don't be shy, show us some of that beautiful black skin." He dropped his sweater to the ground and started on his button-down. "Come on guys, strip down. We have enough meat here for one heck of a daisy chain."

"Huh?" Finn was clueless, as usual. Sam, thank god, had caught on. "Cool," he said, and started stripping.

"There some kinda gay virus goin' round? Man, I am going to get myself inoculated!" And with that, Azimio and his henchman stormed after their more cowardly friend.

"Too late now!" Kurt yelled after them, "Even banging a Cheerio won't help: you've been exposed!"

His heart still pounding in his ears, he didn't hear Finn right away, until he was spun around.

"Dude!" Finn yelled, "Mind telling me what the hell that was about?"

Kurt looked past his brother's scrunched, confused face. Sam, looking like some kind of sculpted surf god in his underarmour, was watching Dave. And Dave was now sitting on a bench, with his back to them, head in his hands. From him heaving shoulders, it seemed likely that he was crying.

"Uhm, c'mon Finn. Let's hit the showers. I stink." Sam tried to urge Finn away.

"What? No! I'm not leaving him here with HIM," he gestured angrily.

"It's ok, Finn," Kurt said as he started rebuttoning his shirt.

"Yeah, man," agreed Sam. "Kurt's got this covered." He pushed Finn toward the showers. "Yell if you need anything," he said over his shoulder.

"Thanks, Sam." Lips quirked into a half smile, eyes running slowly up and down Sam's beautiful body, he repeated, "Seriously, thank you."

Sam shot him an embarrassed grin. Kurt heard Finn sputter as they disappeared around the corner, "What was THAT?"

Another deep breath. Time to face the music. Kurt walked slowly over and sat next to Dave on the bench, facing away but shoulders almost touching. He couldn't decipher the sounds coming from the larger boy.

"You ok?" he asked warily. That produced some kind of wet snort.

"Was that a laugh or are you crying?"

"Do I have to pick one?" came the muffled reply. Kurt relaxed slightly. If Dave could laugh, then at least he wasn't dealing with a total meltdown. Unless it was hysteria …

"So … I take it you came out to Azimio a little more, uh, unambiguously after that scene after the game?"

Dave huffed a strangled laugh. "Not really, but he wouldn't let up. Those two meathead jokers showed up. And bada-bing — I've never dated, I picked too much on you, some other … stuff … and I'm out"

Kurt took a moment to digest this and found himself feeling sorry for the boy slumped next to him. "So you didn't come out so much as get caught out."

"Whatever."

"I'm sorry."

"Why?" Dave asked after a long moment. "I've treated you like shit. You should be happy."

"I don't know. God knows I can be catty, but I'm not vengeful. And this is … different. Serious." He thought about it another second before continuing. "Being gay can be … hard. Lonely. At our age, you know, when there aren't that many of us out. Blaine's shown me …"

Dave snorted.

"Oh, shut up. Whatever you may think of him, Blaine's shown me how important it can be to have a friend. A gay friend. Someone you don't have to pretend with." Kurt felt a rush of gratitude for his new friend. Even if Blaine never ended up being anything more than a friend, that was the world. "You know, even just two people, that's community. Shelter. It helps."

"You offering to be my shelter, Hummel?" Dave asked. Kurt heard the familiar sneer but ignored it in favour of the tentative hope he hoped he heard.

"Well," he said lightly, "they do say you should keep your friends close and your enemies closer."

"Enemies, huh?"

"How about frenemies? Who, um, don't have to hang out or anything. Just maybe talk sometimes? Text? Or whatever. Just so, you know, you're not alone. And, um, I can make sure I get the heads up should you decide to turn into a homicidal thug again." Kurt held his breath.

Dave snorted. He was going to damage his sinuses if he wasn't careful. "Frenemies. Ok."

"Whew. Alrighty then. Why don't you get dressed and we can all get out of here. I mean, not together or anything. Finn and me'll just make sure you get to your car ok. Go on, change. I won't peak."

Dave stood up an opened his locker. "Like you'd want to. Wouldn't be much of a show after surfer boy's striptease."

He sounds like a surly bear, Kurt thought. Not as hairy a bear as previously suspected, however. Kurt snuck a peak at the broad naked back behind him, despite his promise, and quickly whipped his head around when the towel started sliding.

"No peaking," Dave admonished.

"Sorry," he replied, going for breezy but (he was very much afraid) sounding breathless instead. "Couldn't help it. There's just all kinds of eye candy in here today…"


	3. Frenemies

**kurt:** Hi frenemy.

**dave:** ?

**kurt**: Just checking in on your homicidal tendencies.

**dave:** football practice

**kurt:** How did that go?

**dave:** split lip - other guys look worse tho

**kurt:** Guys, plural? They give you any trouble in the locker room?

**dave:** you gonna come strip again?

**kurt:** You should be so lucky...

**dave:** lockers ok - finn and surfer dude hover - your doing?

**kurt:** No. Finn's dim but essentially decent. Sam must just think you're cute.

**dave:** har

* * *

**kurt:** Hi frenemy.

**dave:** hi - this a regular thing now?

**kurt:** Standing date.

…

**kurt:** Kidding. Do anything interesting today?

**dave:** tried to stay out of trouble

**kurt:** Mercedes said she didn't see you all day

**dave:** just keeping a low profile

**kurt:** ?

**dave:** beast's letting me use her office

**kurt:** Sweet. Anything interesting in there?

**dave:** privacy

* * *

**kurt:** I heard your locker got defaced today.

**dave:** hi 2 u 2 - just spray paint - inside is ok

**kurt:** Still...

**dave:** it really sucks

**kurt:** I know.

**dave:** i know u know - i'm really really sorry

**kurt:** Wow. Really?

**dave:** i am sorry i was a fckg asshole to you - that really enough 4 u?

**kurt:** Yes.

**dave:** nite kurt

**kurt:** Goodnight, Dave.

* * *

**kurt:** So, your locker cleaned up yet?

…

**kurt:** You there?

…

**kurt:** Ok. Call if you need to.

* * *

**kurt:** Hi Dave - you there?

…

**kurt:** Ok. Maybe you're tired of talking about yourself.

…

**kurt:** Right. My turn. So I got busted again for dress code violation. Yesterday it was this vintage stick pin in my tie. Today they figured out I tailored my jacket.

…

**kurt:** So I can hear you now, all 'dress code? Whatever happened to I'm proud to be different?' Well, let me tell you, it chafes. Not literally, now that the jacket fits properly, but you know. You know what I mean.

…

**kurt:** I'm officially getting worried here. Call me.

* * *

"Argh!" Kurt threw himself on one of the leather chesterfields as the last of the Warblers filed out of the room. Tonight's practice had been a horrible end to a horrible week. "What a jerk!"

"Come on," said Blaine, sitting next to him. "You know Wes isn't homophobic. He's just … square."

"He told me to stop prancing!"

"Don't you think you might be blowing this out of proportion? I know you've been stressed this week about Dave..."

"I was not prancing! That's just the way I move. Nobody asks David to stop doing the roly-poly with his hands. And he didn't tell Jer to stop grabbing his crotch when he thumpa-thumpa's the baseline."

Blaine sighed, unsure how to handle Kurt's snit. "Just try to act a little more..."

"Straight?"

"No! Just …" he struggled for the right word, "discreet."

Kurt considered his friend. Blaine looked worried. But gorgeous. Kind. Compassionate. He really believed what he was saying. It was disappointing.

"People shouldn't have to ACT anything, Blaine," Kurt insisted quietly. "They should be free to just BE." He swiveled to sit on the coffee table opposite his friend. "Do you realize you act like two completely different people?"

Blaine's eyebrows twitched.

"With every else you're always suave, formal, supercool... And you're all of that with me too." He reached out and gave Blaine's hands a reassuring squeeze. "But you're also flirty, a bit of a gossip, totally goofy. TOTALLY goofy. I mean, look at us. Young, gay, gorgeous. We should be on top of the world. Instead, you're bipolar, I feel like I'm in disguise half the time and Dave's just trying to disappear. He tries much harder, and I'm afraid he's going to succeed. It's not right."

Blaine nodded heavily. They sat quietly, looking at their clasped hands until Kurt felt all the worries, frustrations and disappointments of the past weeks coalesce, finally, into a sense of resolve.

"I'm going back," he said.

"What?"

"I'm going back. Dave isn't going to be a problem anymore, and I miss my friends ... my WARDROBE. I miss being ME. I need to take back my life. I need to take back the SCHOOL."

Barely able to speak past the lump in his throat, Blaine asked, "How are you going to do that?"

"Watch and learn." Kurt stood abruptly, whipped out his phone and punched away decisively. "Mercedes? Listen up. The bitch is coming back. So rally the troops: I'm going to need some help."

The Triumphant Return of Kurt Elizabeth Hummel was now officially underway.


	4. New world order

"We're here," Finn said, putting the car in park.

Eyes closed, head back on the headrest, Kurt held up is finger as Gloria Gaynor faded out, still wailing about survival (backed by didgeridoos, of course, because only the Priscilla mix would suffice this morning). "Okay," he said on a deep exhale, slipping on a pair of pink-framed shades. "I'm ready." Kurt opened his door and turned when Finn didn't do the same.

"You ready?"

"Uh, what're those?"

"They're shades, Finn."

"They're very … pink."

Kurt shrugged a 'so?' at his stepbrother. "They match my boutonniere," he said, indicating the pink gerbera daisy at the lapel of his Galliano jacket. "Besides, they're a gift from Blaine."

"Oh, huh. Okay." Finn finally got moving.

Outside, Kurt paused for a moment to look around. It was a cold, bright day. A good day to stage a comeback. "There are the girls," he said as he spotted Mercedes, Rachel, Tina, Lauren and Brittany at the other end of the lot.

"So. Blaine," said Finn. "Guess you're gonna miss him a lot, huh?"

"He's not dead, Finn."

"No, no. Of course not. I was just... It's gonna suck have to do the long distance thing."

"We're just friends. We talked this morning actually, while you were still snoring. He wanted to wish me luck.

"Oh. Uh. That's nice."

"Well, he's a nice guy. Hey - what're they doing here?" Kurt greeted Mercedes with a tight hug, being carefully not to crush his daisy and observing as Artie, Mike and Sam approached.

"We're here to support you," said Artie with a sweet smile.

"That's nice, but you guys are the ones who mixed it up with Dave before I left. I mean, you know that as far as I'm concerned, supporting me means supporting him now, too, right?"

"We know," said Mike, face serious.

"We're here to support both of you," assured Sam. "What happened to you was wrong, but so is what's happening to Karof- Dave. So let's go give notice, okay? Things are going to change."

His friends looked serious and determined. Choked with gratitude and affection, Kurt managed a nod before he started for the school. It was a typical morning, he guessed. But it seemed to him that the crowds parted to make way for them as they headed in, some even turning to watch as they passed. It was like destiny, and destiny was looking for Dave.

Kurt shrugged off the wave of relief he felt when he finally spotted the other boy. His former bully was skulking up the side of the hall - there was no other word for it. He head was down, shoulders slumped. In short, he looked like hell. "This is it. Let's go," Kurt said, straightening his shoulders and starting on an intercept course. His battalion followed in V formation, with Mercedes and Rachel in the flank positions.

They were almost on top of him before Dave came to a halt and looked up, surprised.

"What're you doing here?" hissed Dave.

"Oh, sorry I didn't warn you," Kurt replied, removing his shades and waving them negligently with his hand. "I thought doubling the out, gay population might help even the odds a little around here. So I'm back." Dave blinked his surprise and shot a wary look at the gang at Kurt's back. Apparently he didn't detect any overt hostility. Thanks guys, Kurt thought. Including everyone had been the right thing to do. And not a moment too soon...

"Yo Karofsky! Your girlfriend back?" Bellowed Azimio as he approached with a phalanx of lettermanned jocks. Kurt nailed him with his most contemptuous bitch face.

"Piss off," Dave scowled at his former best friend.

"Yeah, and don't call Kurt a girl," said Artie.

"It's totally homophobic," added Rachel, arms crossed pugnaciously.

"Wait, I thought it was sexist?" murmured Finn.

"Besides, Kurt is a boy. He has, like, a huge penis," Brittany's little-girl voice rang out. "It's totally bigger than yours."

Stunned silence followed her claim. Kurt, stuck somewhere between mortification and giggles, managed to whisper, "Thanks, Boo."

Dave snorted a laugh and caught his eye.

"The way I see it, Zee," said Dave, eyes still locked on Kurt's, "he's come back to stand up for someone who treated him like shit. So that makes him a bigger man than me. And he's standing up to someone who weighs, like, twice what he does, so that makes him a bigger man than you."

Kurt gaped, and Dave's lips quirked into a smile. What do you know? He'd rendered the diva speechless. Well, for a moment, anyhow. Quickly recalling that 'slack-jawed idiot' was not a good look on him, Kurt snapped his mouth shut and tilted his lifted his chin at an imperious angle.

"And don't you forget it," he snapped at Azimio. He looked down his nose and let his gaze pause briefly - pityingly - at the bully's crotch before redirecting his attention to Dave. "What class do you have first period?"

"Uh, physics."

Kurt's eyebrows soared. "Excellent. I'm headed in that direction too. Shall we?"

Dave slowly nodded his assent.

Their friends and foes watched the unlikely duo walk away down the middle of the hall together, Kurt's springy step matching Dave's more deliberate pace. Once they turned the corner, everyone started disbanding and heading to class. "What in the hell was that?" muttered Azimio. A strong hand clapped on his shoulder. "That," said Sam, bending close to his ear, "was the new world order."


	5. Fomenting revolution

It was inevitable. The elation he felt upon his triumphant return couldn't last. In fact, it ended the very next day with a purple slushie to the face.

Kurt strode into the choir room, irritably trying to shrug off the fingers plucking stray bits of slushie from his jacket. Mercedes and Tina ignored his temper. Kurt collapsed into a chair, and they settled next to him, continuing their grooming as the rest of the glee club shuffled in.

"I want dimensions," Santana was saying. Brittany whispered into her ear as they made their way to their seats.

"Oh my god, Kurt, equipment like that is totally wasted on a bottom."

Kurt froze at Santana's words, drawled as she walked past him.

"What did you say?"

The room quieted. A slushie in the face had nothing on the cold rage Kurt felt now.

"You heard me," Santana replied, squaring off against Kurt with a roll of her neck.

Kurt stood and turned to face her. "How. Dare. You."

"Oh please, baby-face girly-voice, you are such a twink. Isn't that the way it works with guys? The twink's the one to always take it up the-?"

"Santana!" yelled Mr. Schuester.

"C'mon, Kurt. Just ignore her," urged Mercedes. "Sit down. Please? I think we missed a bit under your collar."

"Screw the slushie, Mercedes. Screw it!" Kurt pushed his chair over. There was a roaring in his ears, and he was so angry he felt like he'd split out of his skin. "It's not about the damn slushies! That is not why I left, and that is not what is wrong here!"

"Kurt, relax man," Finn said tentatively. "We all know why you left."

"Oh you think so?"

"Yeah, and Dave's not going to-"

"DAVE was just the tipping point!" yelled Kurt. "DAVE is as much a victim here as I am, now!"

Kurt swept his gaze across the class. His friends sat frozen and stunned. Even Mr. Shue and Brad-the-piano-guy looked taken aback. Satisfied he had a captive audience, Kurt paced to the centre of the room.

"Tossed in the dumpster from grade 9, day 1. Day 1, Puck. Like I was TRASH."

Puck scrunched his face into a frown and looked at the floor.

"Everyone trying to stuff me into a dress. Even you, Mr. Schue. Hell, you assumed I'd jump at the chance to wear fishnets! Well, I am SICK of all your stupid assumptions and, and heterosexist assignments and choreography!"

The teacher's mouth gawped open, stunned.

"I am sick of the comments and the jokes. And I am especially sick of the verbal vomit that comes out of your lewd, cruel viper's mouth, Santana."

Kurt mirrored her pose with a roll of his neck, crossing his arms. "Especially since you're as gay as I am."

"Don't tell me what I am," Santana snapped, eyes slitting dangerously. "I've had sex with every worthwhile guy in this room."

"Oh, I'm sorry. Do you prefer bi? How about equal opportunity whor-"

"Uh, I've always liked 'queer,'" Sam interrupted.

"Dude," Finn whispered urgently, "stay out of it."

But it was too late. The entire class had shifted their attention to the blonde in the back row.

"My parents are total hippies," shrugged Sam. "They have really interesting friends. Dinner party conversation is kinda all over the place. Queer - it's like - uh, Rachel?"

"R-right," she stuttered before composing herself, determined to make her two gays dads proud. "Queer is kind of an umbrella term. It means whether you're gay or bi or transexual or whatever - whoever you are, whoever you love and however you choose to live and express your love, it's okay. It's okay, Kurt," she repeated quietly. "It's all beautiful and, and equally valid. And I wish everyone understood that like we do."

Eyes bright with tears, Kurt couldn't reply.

"Screw that," Puck said. "Wishes are for losers. I'm really sorry I was an ass, Kurt. But what're we going to do about everybody else?"

"'We're here, we're queer, get used to it.'" Sam was suddenly excited. "It was, like, a slogan for this queer political movement or something."

"Why do you know anything about this?" asked Quinn, clearly confused.

"What?"

"No, Sam's right. That's totally it. People need to get used to it and get over it." Rachel wiggled in her seat excitedly. "We could launch a campaign..."

"Now THAT'S what I'm talkin' about!" agreed Puck. "A gay revolution!"

"No! Maybe a presentation, posters..."

"I'm a whiz with Illustrator," offered Artie.

"Right. And Quinn's got a great eye for design, right?" Quinn compressed her lips but nodded reluctantly. "Great," Rachel continued. "And I can totally get Jacob and the school paper on board. What do you say?"

"I say people should just be nice," opined Brittany.

Kurt took a shaky breath. He still felt shocky with anger, but maybe … just maybe … with a little work and good friends, things would change. "Right. We're here, we're queer, get used to it ... and be nice."


	6. Rite of passage

The locker room door slammed open. Dave quickly locked Bieste's office door and turned to see what the commotion was all about.

"Watch out. Warpath coming through," Sam warned. A tangle of gleeks pushed and stomped their way in behind him: Finn, Kurt, Artie - who struggled with the door until Mike helped out.

"Just back off!" Finn was yelling.

Kurt, hot on his heals, ignored the advice. Dave recognized the look on his face. Uh oh. There'd be no stopping fancypants now.

"It's no big deal, Finn. Come on, you owe me," Kurt insisted.

"What're you talking about? I already said I'd help. I'll put up posters, carry stuff, whatever, okay? I'm just not modelling for some gay romance poster thing!"

"Gay awareness campaign poster, Finn. And it's not like I'm asking you to French some guy-"

"Argh!" Finn covered his ears in horror.

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Holding hands. That's it. Two guys, holding hands, from behind. No one will even know it's you."

"Great. That's just great. So no one will even know when it's NOT me, 'cause I'm not doing it!"

Kurt thrust his chin forward, eyes stormy. Dave watched with a kind of detached fascination as the smaller boy got right in Finn's face. And here comes the finger...

"You owe me," Kurt insisted, finger thrust right in his stepbrother's face.

"What is with this 'you owe me' crap? I am not the one who owes you, ok? Go bug Puck or Santana or, or fucking Karofsky. I am not the bully here!"

Hearing his name, Dave snapped out of observer mode. Especially when Finn's last words sank in. He gave a contemptuous snort.

Hearing him, Finn spun around. "What!" he yelled in exasperation.

"Oh, nothing," Dave said with a sneer, "St. Finnegan."

"What is your problem?"

"My problem is YOU," said Dave, his temper rising. Kurt, used to seeing his former bully looking more depressed than not these days, took a cautious step back.

"It's like watching tennis," Mike whispered to him.

"Uh uh," Artie disagreed. "Racquetball. Really angry racquetball."

Dave advanced on Finn. "St. Finnegan the innocent. The golden boy - never does anything wrong. It's bullshit!"

"What're you talking about?"

"Grade 5, brainiac... What? You don't remember? Always picking me last for teams in gym? Not letting me play at recess? How about making fun in the changerooms 'cause I was such a fat, hairy little bastard?"

Finn looked genuinely confused, his mouth opening and closing like a landed fish. "I didn't mean … it was … nothing …"

But Dave was on a tear. "Nothing? Nothing? The most popular, best looking guy in class singles ME out for … You know what? Fuck you! You made my life a living hell that year, Finnegan. So don't give me the 'I'm not a bully' bullshit, 'cause I know different!"

Kurt felt stricken. Dave's words, so eerily familiar, and the obvious emotion behind them, kept echoing through his head. Tumbling them over and over, Kurt couldn't help but picture the scene. He'd seen pictures of Finn at 10: a beanpole of a kid with scabby knees, but sunny-faced. Beautiful, really. Magnetic in his carefree, confident way. Kurt could easily imagine Dave, a little chubby, maybe not having sprouted up yet, but already in the early throes of puberty...

"You liked him," Kurt said faintly. A dull red crept up Dave's neck and he swung his head to meet Kurt's gaze. After a moment, he scowled, clearly interpreting Kurt's understanding for pity.

"Yeah, well, I got over it," Dave spat.

Realizing that he'd unintentionally embarrassed the other boy, Kurt gave himself a mental shake. Situation salvage time, he thought.

"Hmmm," he hummed. "It took me a while, but I did too. Get over Finn, that is."

"What is this? Did every gay dude in the school crush on me?" Finn cried, clearly thrown by this revelation. He sat heavily on the bench behind him.

"Just think of yourself as Lima's gay rite of passage," said Kurt, with a touch of malice.

"Don't worry," snarled Dave. "We all get over you pretty quick."

"All?" panicked Finn. "What do you mean, all?"

"Well," replied Kurt, carefully examining his nails, "if science is correct, and ten percent of the population is gay... I don't know about elementary school, but at McKinley that makes, what? Dave, help me out here..."

"Roughly 150 ..."

"Thank you. … 150 gay students crushing on you."

"Don't forget about chicks and dy- uh, lesbians," offered Sam. Arms crossed and leaning against the lockers, he seemed to be finding this conversation very amusing.

"Darn it. Can't forget the lesbians. So that's only …"

"Seventy-five gays," Dave recalculated.

"Minus us. Hmm... not so bad really. And I'm sure some of the others are over you, too."

Kurt's false sympathy did nothing to soothe Finn. Clearly unable to parse this paradigm shift in his apparent sex appeal, he staggered to his feet and out the door, stumbling as he overcompensated to avoid even casually brushing against a new group of guys entering the room.

"That was a little mean," Artie observed.

"Are you kidding? He turned my bed into a dumping ground for his dirty laundry while I was away," Kurt retorted. "I'm going to have to get new sheets. And they were Egyptian cotton!"

"Fancy," said Dave with a shake of his head. "You are something else."

After a moment, they all burst into laughter.

"C'mon," said Sam. "The girls are waiting for us."

Kurt watched as Sam and Mike helped Artie back out the door. Taking the school elevator, it'd take them a while to get back to the choir room, where they were planning to brainstorm 'operation queer'. Steeling himself to apologize, he walked over to where Dave appeared to be stowing some heavy textbooks in his locker.

"So - Finn?"

"Yeah, well, he was pretty," Dave admitted reluctantly.

"Hmm, and dim," agreed Kurt. Dave opened his mouth to reply, but Kurt rushed on before he could speak. "You're not fat, you know." He shot the other boy a sidelong glance. "And I would know... I'd say solid. And strong..."

Not sure what to make of Kurt's assessment, Dave focused on shutting and locking his locker. "Don't forget hairy," he mumbled.

"Oh, I don't know," Kurt admitted breezily, heart suddenly beating a mile a minute. "Hairy has its appeal. You know … friction."

Dave watched Kurt's lips shape the word. 'Friction.' That was a good thing, right?

Kurt shivered with … he wasn't sure what. "So. Are you coming?"

"What?"

"We're meeting in the choir room to plan a kind of … public awareness campaign." Kurt brow furrowed. "It was going to be a 'we're here, we're queer' kind of a thing, but it occurs to me that it should be bigger than that."

Dave leaned his shoulder against his locker and watched as Kurt worked through his thoughts.

"I mean, 150 closeted queer kids..."

"148," Dave corrected.

"Right. Well, they need to know they're not alone. But so do the kids who've been told they're too fat or too, I don't know, zitty or freakish." Kurt gave a small shake of his head. "The point is, we could use your help. I could use your help."

He really means it, thought Dave. He took in Kurt's face: beautiful and … sincere. For once not pissed or pissy at all. "Okay," he found himself agreeing.

"Okay?" Kurt smiled tentatively, "I mean, okay. Great. Let's, um... let's go."

Suddenly both shy, the boys made their way to the choir room, each struggling to hide a trembling, hopeful smile.


	7. Butt out

The day of the big reveal, Dave watched as Kurt walked back and forth, carefully studying the row of posters hung on the choir room's back wall. Everyone - the gleeks (minus Finn) and even Jacob - held their breath. Kurt had been as passionate and difficult as any first-time indie film director during their message and design brainstorming sessions. Despite that, Dave was impressed that his friends were still anxious for his approval.

Each poster featured a tone-on-tone silhouette in bright colours: two guys holding hands, two chicks, a large girl, a kid in a wheelchair, faces in profile. Plain white text ran over the images. Much to everyone's chagrin, Rachel's initial suggestion had provided the campaign's catchphrase: 'get over it.' As in, 'some people are gay, get over it;' ' some people are big, get over it;' 'some people have wheels, get over it;' and finally, after much heated debate, 'people are different colours, get over it.' Being a good boyfriend, Artie had also printed out some pink posters with 'be nice' emblazoned across them in plain, blocky letters.

"Punchy … precise … perfect," Kurt finally declared, spinning to face his friends, face beaming. "Artie, Quinn, these are amazing." Dave sighed with relief and found himself smiling along with everyone else. Well, almost everyone.

Santana rolled her eyes. "Alliterative much?" she sneered, glaring at the image of two girls holding hands. Ignoring her, the group approached the posters.

"Your bum looks totally hot, girlfriend," Brittany whispered to Tina.

"Yes it does," agreed Mike, administering an affectionate pat to said bum.

"No disrespect," drawled Lauren. "But your bums have nothing on mine."

"Ladies, as the badassiest person in the room, I've gotta insist that THIS ass," Puck stroked the poster of the two guys, "is the baddest."

"Dude," disagreed Sam. "That's MY ass."

"What? No way. I know my own butt, man. And THAT fine specimen is mine. 'Sides, I was on the left."

"Uh uh. Remember? We switched it up after a few shots 'cause you said holding hands on that side felt weird."

Puck glared at Sam. "Yo! Quinn! Which picture d'you use?"

Quinn held up her hands in surrender.

"I THINK you are missing the point," declared Rachel in full-on prissy mode. "These posters are not about butts."

"Whatever," Puck waved her off. "Sex sells. So use it, right? I say bring on the booty."

"You can't see my booty," Artie said a little sadly.

Dave looked over and noticed that Artie hadn't been able to approach the posters with them because his chair couldn't mount the risers. He felt a pang of sympathy for the guy. He'd been nothing but patient all week as everyone had peppered him with their two cents' worth.

"Yeah, but you have a sweet ride, dude," Dave said. He felt strangely gratified when Artie shot him a smile.

"So," interrupted Kurt, sending an approving look Dave's way. "Everyone grab a pile, then get your marching orders from Rachel."

Rachel graciously nodded as the Kurt ceded her the floor. She held up some school maps and placed them next to the stack of posters on the piano. "I've divided up the school and assigned everyone a quadrant based on their class schedule, extracurriculars and habits. Now remember, this is a guerrilla campaign..."

"We did monkey posters?" Brittany asked in confusion.

"That means that we don't have permission to put posters up all over the school. This is strictly by students for students. Don't get caught."

"And on that note," Kurt said. "I don't know how much longer Finn can hold off Mr. Schue, so let's get moving."

"What about my interview?" Jacob asked as people began filing out.

"Not here, and you can't publish any names. Other than that, Rachel can handle it."

"Really?" Rachel squeaked. "Kurt, I don't know what to say."

Kurt squeezed her shoulder warmly. "You know the issues. And I trust you to be pedantic."

Eyes glinting with zeal, Rachel nodded quickly before dragging Jacob away.

Dave continued taking the posters down off the wall, pretending not to be listening.

"We still on to celebrate at the mall?" Mercedes was asking.

"Absolutely. Just give me a sec and I'll meet you at your locker, okay?" was Kurt's reply.

With a nod, Mercedes took off, leaving Kurt and Dave alone to clean up. Kurt picked stray bits of blu-tack off the wall as Dave pulled down the last poster.

"Thanks for you help this week," Kurt finally said.

"Didn't do much."

"Well, you kept Rachel and Mercedes from killing each other over the wording of the anti-racism poster."

Dave huffed a laugh. "Yeah, well. They can be a little intense."

Kurt watched Dave fondly as the larger boy awkwardly rolled the poster blueprints into a tube. True, Dave hadn't said much at their strategy meetings. But he had defused a couple of bitchfights. And when Rachel's attempt to hijack the design process had resulted in the computer crashing, Dave had rebooted it and managed to salvage Artie's work.

"Why don't you come with us?" Kurt asked spontaneously.

"Huh?"

"Mercedes and me are headed to the mall. There's a Tommy Hilfiger sale on, and I need some basics... Actually, Tommy would totally suit your build. We could pick you up a few things..."

"Uh, no thanks."

"C'mon. I'm trying to be nice here," Kurt cajoled, warming to the idea. "Now that you're out, you need to, you know, represent. And who better to help restyle your wardrobe than 'moi'?"

Dave shook his head as he collected his posters and marching orders. "Not my idea of fun. Guess I'm just not like you."

"But you could be," Kurt insisted. "Really. It'd be my pleasure."

"Jesus!" Dave said, exasperated. "I don't want to be like you!"

"Excuse me?"

"Oh, don't give me stink eye. I just mean … Look. You're witty and beautiful and, and bitchy and crazy talented and a little swishy," Dave waved his hand at Kurt, taking in his beret, dip-dyed sweater, skinny jeans and knee-high docs. "Fashion is your thing. Not mine. I like … sports and video games. I DON'T like dressing up, and I. Hate. Shopping!"

What? Kurt mouthed silently. A gay man who didn't like to shop just wasn't possible. Was it?

"Look, I don't want to be like you. And I don't want you to be like me. I just …"

"What? You just want what, Dave?"

"You! I just want you!" Both boys froze. Ohmygodimsofucked, Dave thought, horrified at what he'd let slip.

"If I wasn't so creeped out, that would be really romantic," Kurt said breathlessly after a moment.

Dave snapped out of his shock. "Bitchy."

"Sorry. That was just…"

"Yeah." Dave sighed. "That's why I'm gay. Okay? I like guys. That's it."

"Guys, or just me?"

Dave dragged his hands over his face in frustration. "God! You're so... Gah! You turn my brain to mush!"

"Or at least send it south, apparently."

Dave made a choking sound. "I can't believe you just said that."

"Please, you know there's nothing I won't say," Kurt replied, retreating behind his customary hauteur.

"Yeah, I know," replied Dave, his eyes flickering for an intense second to Kurt's mouth. "I'll see you Monday, Kurt."

Kurt stood alone at the centre of the room, heart pounding like crazy, unsure what to feel. Offended? Flattered? Definitely confused. And strangely, despite what he'd told Dave, not creeped out.

"Hey," Mercedes' soft voice came as a surprise. "You okay, slowpoke? I though I heard yelling in here. Who was that?"

Kurt just shook his head. "I have absolutely no idea."


	8. Good boy

Mercedes cocked her head. Squinted. Nope, that didn't help. She still had no idea what Kurt was up to. He'd been squirrelly all weekend, and now, apparently, he'd taken to peering around corners while humming the Mission Impossible theme song.

"What are you doing?" she finally asked.

Kurt clutched his heart and spun around before hustling her into the nearest classroom. "Shhhhhh! Do you WANT him to hear us?"

"Who?"

"Dave," Kurt replied, shutting the door behind them.

"You're spying on Dave? Boy, what is your problem?"

"I'm not SPYING, I'm information-gathering."

"Uh, why?"

"Because he knows way more about me than I do about him. Oh, and he said he likes me." Twisting to look out the door window at an angle, Kurt didn't see the 'whoa' cross his friend's face.

"Hold up," Mercedes said slowly. "You're upset because it's Dave, or because someone said he likes you for who you are?"

"You don't get it," Kurt huffed impatiently. "I'm not upset, I'm just … " He jerked his head back from the window in the door as Dave walked past. "... Look, he seems to know all about me, and almost everything I know about HIM is, well, BAD. I need to do some reconnaissance."

"Kurt, just talk with him. Ask him out."

"What? No! That would be..."

"Too easy?"

"Foolhardy. Until I know more, I'm at a tactical disadvantage. And that is just NOT acceptable. Do you think Puck would help me break in to Bieste's office?"

That question got no answer except for a look that fairly shouted 'you're crazy!' as Mercedes pushed past him and out into the hall.

Two minutes later it was Artie's turn to wonder at Kurt's strange behaviour.

"Hold up, honeybear." He craned his neck this way and that, trying to see exactly what Kurt was doing through the between-period rush of student bodies.

"Hmmm?" Brittany hummed vaguely. She stopped the wheelchair and started to pick the wool pills off his sweater.

Artie watched as Kurt, looking conspicuously nonchalant, tried to get into someone's locker. Not his own, Artie knew. In fact, if he wasn't mistaken, it was Dave Karofsky's. The same Dave Karofsky who was even now rounding the corner...

"Looking for me, Fancy?"

Kurt shrieked and dropped his satchel, spilling school and spy gear all over the floor.

"No! Why would I be?" he demanded as he scrambled to retrieve his stuff.

"'Cause this is my locker?" Dave handed him a magnifying glass and started gathering the scattered bobby pins.

"Why would I know that?" Kurt hastily snatched the bobby-pins away and lurched to his feet. "Can't I stop randomly in the hall? Besides, you're supposed to be at Algebra."

"Algebra II," Dave shot him a puzzled look as he reached in to his locker. "Forgot my textbook... Look, is everything okay?"

"Of course? Why wouldn't it be? I'm fine." And with that, he bolted.

Dave's heart sank as Kurt high-tailed it down the hall, shot a panicked look over his shoulder and disappeared. Fuck. He'd been and idiot to think that Kurt might be over the bullying. Sure, he'd come back and had seemed to be making nice. Inviting him shopping and trying to fold him into the gleek squad, those were overtures of friendship, right? But when it came right down to it, if Dave got too loud or surprised the other boy accidentally, Kurt jumped a mile and practically ran away. This was already the second time today. "Stupid, stupid, stupid," Dave muttered, banging his head against his locker. After my dumb-fuck confession the other day, he probably thinks I'm going to assault him.

Across the hall, Brittany, having completed a sculpture out of sweater pills, looked up to see her boyfriend roll over to an upset-looking Dave.

"I don't think he's actually still scared of you, it's just an ingrained reaction," Artie was saying gently.

"That doesn't make me feel any better, Wheels."

"No, seriously. It's fixable," Artie persisted. "Right now he subconsciously associates you with locker slams and slushies. We just have to change the association. It's behaviour modification. Operant conditioning? You know, like clicker training with dogs and dolphins..."

Dave snorted. "I am not clicker training Kurt. He's not a dog."

"Kurt is a dolphin," Brittany said wisely. Dave shot her a confused look before heading back to class.

"Clicker training works," Brittany said absently, walking the sweater-pill sculpture up Artie's arm. "That's how Coach Sylvester trained us all to do the splits no matter how much it hurts. You can't tell anyone you know, though, or I'll have to self-destruct. I've been programmed."

"Do you think you could get your hands on some clickers?" Artie asked slowly as he watched Becky hustle by. Brittany followed his gaze. Amazingly, understanding dawned.

* * *

Day four into his recon mission, and Kurt was more confused than ever. Nothing he had learned jived with what he thought he knew about Dave. Dave the slushy-wielding bully was a nonentity in the hallways, now. No more slushies. He didn't even drink them. After having got up obscenely early on day two to check out the skating rink, Kurt learned that puckhead Dave was no more: he'd apparently pulled out of hockey. He spent lunches and spares in Coach Bieste's office, door closed, while she taught class or monitored the cafeteria. What his did in there was still a mystery. Puck had managed to get them in, but all they found was an extra laptop. Password-protected, of course. So. The guy knew computers. Big deal. He also totally avoided his former jock pals. In fact, Dave seemed to spend most of his time alone. This made Kurt feel uncomfortably guilty and sad, which in turn made him cranky.

Exacerbating his mood was the fact that his friends had gone crazy. Mercedes had taken to communicating with him almost exclusively via nonverbal means. Snorts, eyerolls and various 'you're nuts' hand gestures were apparently meant to convey her disgust with his, ahem, information-gathering.

In addition, Artie and Brittany were on some kind of manic, post-Valentine chocolate gorge-fest. They kept popping up in his face, insisting he try one, and stuffing a sweet in his mouth with nary a by-your-leave. Yesterday, Becky had got in on the act and tried to choke him with an entire Oh Henry bar speared to the back of his throat. Thank god he didn't have much of a gag reflex.

And finally, he kept hearing clicking. Carole had mentioned tinnitus, but that was usually ringing sounds, wasn't it? Mercedes thought it was his guilty conscience.

"Mercedes, quit it," Kurt snapped. "My conscience does not speak in clicks. In fact, it is completely mute right now because it has NOTHING TO SAY! I have nothing to feel guilty about!"

Mercedes crossed her arms. "If your conscience is mute it's 'cause you've MURDERED it."

"Don't be ridiculous. I'm not a violent person."

"No, but you've been acting like a neurotic, suspicious freak!" At Kurt's outraged gasp, she started enumerating proof of his moral void on her fingers. "You roped Puck into breaking the terms of his parole, you are totally violating Dave's privacy, and do you realize you've been so busy sneaking that you haven't spoken to him in a week? He hasn't hung out with us at all since the posters were finished. Boy probably thinks you hate him."

Kurt was unable to come up with a defence.

"That's it," Mercedes declared. She reached over, snatched Kurt's phone from his pocket and made for the choir room.

"Hey!" Kurt objected, hurrying after her.

"Consider this a sanity intervention." Mercedes clicked, scrolled and typed away. "There. Now, you are going to 'fess up and make nice. Do I make myself clear?"

Kurt took his phone back and scanned the screen. "What have you done?"

"Do I make myself clear?"

* * *

Dave received the text from Kurt with some surprise.

**kurt:** choir room now

Strange. No punctuation, no capitalization, no context. Not only that, but Kurt hadn't texted him since his return to McKinley, and after this weeks' cold shoulder... Well, this was unexpected to say the least. Must be important? Dave started moving. Artie and Brittany, who'd taken to shadowing him after they lost Kurt between afternoon classes, followed behind.

"Uh, what's going on?" Dave asked, stepping in to the choir room, when he noticed Mercedes standing beside Kurt. Girl looked pissed...

"Kurt has something to say to you," she said forcefully.

Dave felt his stomach dive. Couldn't be good. Kurt looked terrible, arms wrapped around himself defensively. Shit, he was going to bring up...

"I've been spying on you," Kurt blurted out.

"What?"

"Spying on you."

Dave shook his head. This was completely not what he'd been expecting. "This why you've been avoiding me?"

"Not avoiding. Just the opposite, actually. I've been... investigating."

"Why?"

Kurt had a harder time with that one until Mercedes nudged him. Lifting his chin, he said, "After what you said last week, I wanted to know more. I mean, you seemed really … sure."

Dave's eyes were on Kurt's mouth. As if he was trying to make sense of what was coming out of it. But, god, the boy's lips were distracting, and this still wasn't making any sense at all.

"I was curious. You think you know so much about me, I wanted to know more about you. How do you know so much about me anyway?" Kurt demanded, trying to turn the tables on the other boy.

"Kurt, you're all out there all the time. No mystery, okay? I didn't … I haven't been stalking your or anything." Jesus, he'd been miserable and fucking MOPING all week because the Kurt was CURIOUS? Dave felt anger seeping in through the confusion.

"I have mysteries," Kurt protested, one hand now clutching at his collar.

Dave snorted. "Like?"

"Like, like …" Kurt grasped for something clever to say. "Not anything I'd share with just anyone."

"Right," Dave said. "Well, same here."

Kurt watched with some dismay as Dave started walking out. "Ouch!" Kurt yelped as he felt a finger poke ungently into his side.

"What was that?" Dave turned.

Kurt shot a glare at Mercedes. "I said, but I'm not just anyone."

Dave's eyebrows arched up.

"I'm … me." Lame. Apparently Dave agreed, because he started out the room again.

"Kurt, I love you, but this is where you apologize and ask that boy out like I TOLD you before he gets away," hissed Mercedes.

"What? No! I tried that already; it's HIS turn!"

Mercedes nailed him with squinty-eyed tough love. "Okay, baby boy, this is the way it works: if YOU want to know more about HIM, YOU ask. It's what normal people do..."

In the doorway, Dave stopped, his way blocked by an apologetic-looking Artie and unusually alert Brittany. "Not deaf, guys," he said.

An embarrassed couple beats of silence later, Kurt attempted to brazen it out. "Didn't think you were. … … … Well?"

Dave turned. Kurt stood poker straight in the centre of the room, arms still clutched around himself. He looked defensive and, well, snotty. In fact, if his chin tilted any further up, he'd be looking at the ceiling. Dave heaved a martyred sigh. Diva was going to be high-maintenance. "Would you like to go out some time, Kurt?"

"Yes, thank you. Friday evening would be lovely," came the prissy reply.

"Breadstix?"

"Coffee Bean. I'm craving their chocolate torte. Meet me there at 8."

Artie and Brittany shared a silly smile and discreet high five.

"Eight," Dave nodded before finally (finally) being let out the door. Yep, diva was going to be high-maintenance for sure. His face split into a grin at the cry from the choir room: "Oh my god! What am I going to WEAR?"


	9. D day: prelude

D-day. T minus two hours. Kurt was hyperventilating. His well-intentioned but inept goober of a stepbrother had done their laundry and thus totally ruined his meticulously chosen first-date outfit. His favourite pair of skinny jeans, his go-to confidence boosters, were now stiff and wrinkled, having evidently been washed in hot water and then left in the dryer all day. There was not nearly enough time to beat them into supple, clingy submission, now.

"And there is definitely not enough time to beat Finn. Argh! Blaine, what was he thinking?" Kurt moaned into the phone as he paced his room.

"Probably that he was helping? Come on. What's your backup plan?"

"I thought cargoes topped with my new Neil Barrett sweater; the one with the detachable cowl-neck collar?"

"Wow. That's butch for you."

"I bought the sweater two sizes too small. It's tight, but it doesn't show any skin or anything."

"Uh..."

"Dammit! Too much, right? You think I'm a total slut." Kurt collapsed on his bed. A nervous sweat prickled under his arms. God. He was going to have to take ANOTHER shower.

"Kurt! Relax!" Blaine laughed. "It's just a coffee date. We go to coffee all the time, right? It's no big deal. Nothing to be scared of."

"This is different. I seriously think I'm going to vomit," Kurt insisted.

Blaine sighed and tried to ignore the pinch in his chest. "It's going to be okay. Wear your outfit; it sounds perfect. I wish you'd tell me more about this mystery guy. But if you say he likes you, then you're in. He has more reason to be nervous than you do."

"You're right. Of course you're right." Kurt took a few deep, calming breaths: in through the nose, out through the mouth; in through the nose, out through the mouth. "Okay. I can do this. Thanks, Blaine. Love you."

Blaine stared at the phone after Kurt clicked off. 'Love you,' huh? That was a new one. Mind made up, he quickly scrolled through his phonebook before hitting 'send.' "Mercedes? I don't know if you remember me … Yeah, that Blaine … I'm alright. Listen, who on earth does Kurt have a date with tonight? 'Cause I've got to say, I got a call from him just now, and our boy sounds totally unhinged..."

* * *

"'Bye guys," Kurt called as he hurried past the living room.

Carole looked up from the TV. "Wow, kiddo. You look sexy."

Hearing that, Burt tore his eyes away from Die Hard. He frowned as Kurt pulled his coat on over a very tight sweater. "Where you goin'?"

"Just the Coffee Bean, dad. Home by 1. Promise."

"Say hi to Mercedes for us," he called.

Kurt mumbled an indecipherable reply before slamming out the door.

"Finn," Burt said suspiciously, still frowning at the front door. "Who is my very fancy son meeting for coffee?"

Uh oh. Sitting on the far side of his mother, Finn tried shrink into the couch. Please let me disappear, please let me disappear, please let me-

"Finn..."

* * *

**Sorry this one's so short. SB/SLS got me off track, and I'm having trouble w the date/keeping things light. Might be heading to angsty-land. Reviews appreciated!**


	10. D day: datus interruptus

"Shit, Karofsky's here already."

"That's him?" Carole asked as she peeked around her son. "He looks terrible."

"Yeah, well, it's been kinda crap at school for him," said Finn. "Man, we shouldn't be here. Let's just go, ok?"

"Sorry, kiddo. We go home, and Burt's just going to come charging back. Now, let's go settle in somewhere discreet before Kurt gets here. As it is, we're lucky he had to gas up."

Finn followed his mom reluctantly to a corner booth.

"Now," she said, after sliding in, "This is nice, right? We can catch up. So, tell me, how are things going with Rachel?"

Finn groaned and slouched further into his seat. Worst. Night. Ever.

* * *

Kurt quickly scanned the cafe and spotted his date. Dave was sitting by a window, looking out. From the small pile of shredded napkins in front of him, he'd been there for a while. Apparently he'd run out of napkins, though, because now he was fiddling with his iPod, turning it over and over in his hands. Well. Let's get this show rolling, Kurt decided, forcing some confidence into his step as he strode over.

"What're you listening to?" Kurt asked. Dave startled.

"Uh, Hawksley Workman," he said, eyes wide as Kurt removed his coat.

And the boy is hot tonight, Kurt thought, trying to suppress a smug little smile as he slid in opposite Dave, whom, he noticed, had worn a new-looking Tommy polo for the occasion.

"Never heard of him."

"Uh, Canadian. One of the hockey guys introduced me... Before."

"Hm. May I?" Dave passed him the iPod.

_ I was happy alone_

_ I was doing alright_

_ I had things of my own_

_ Cuz there was nothing that I needed_

_ And somehow we met_

_ And it was totally wrong_

_ And I don't know what to say but baby_

_ Somehow we're completed_

_ Now I won't_

_ Change a thing now_

_ That we're together_

_ I can't explain it, we're so different_

_ We're not the same, we're nothing alike_

_ We're chemical_

_ We're chemical_

_ Cuz you like the same_

_ And I like the change_

_ It's chemical_

_ It's chemical_

_ It shouldn't be as perfect as it feels (oh yeah)_

_ Cuz we're not the same, we're nothing alike_

_ It's chemical _

Kurt was surprised. He'd never given must thought to Dave's musical taste; never even guessed the guy would be much into music. But this was … good: actual tune, à propos lyrics and everything. "Sounds like the latest Scissor Sisters," he noted. He quickly scrolled around on his own iPhone and passed it to Dave. "Here. Listen to this: Fire with Fire. Same kind of dance-y, driving beat."

Kurt let Dave listen to it for a bit, then noticed that their heads were bobbing in time. "Here. Let me try something."

Dave lifted his eyebrows quizzically. Kurt waved for him to lean forward and swapped one each of their earbuds. Despite the similar beat, the resulting cacophony clearly would not mash well. Kurt quickly lost interest in the idea, especially once he noticed that with their heads bent close together, he could feel the heat rising off Dave and smell both cologne and coffee. Chemical indeed. Surreptitiously leaning in for another sniff, he froze when Dave looked up and their eyes caught. It seemed to Kurt that the music and café receded entirely. Not so for Dave. When a couple of guys in blue letterman jackets walked past, he snapped out of their enchanted paralysis and pulled back so quickly that their earbuds whipped out and clattered to the table.

"S-sorry," he mumbled, gathering his iPod and glancing nervously to where the lettermanned guys had settled.

With a sigh, Kurt mentally told himself to cool down. "Come on. I could use a bite and we need to maintain your caffeine buzz."

* * *

"Duck!" Mercedes pushed Blaine's head down as Kurt and Dave started walking in their direction. They stayed crouched over their table for a few seconds before Blaine peeked.

"Coast clear," he breathed.

"You okay?" Mercedes asked, wiping hair gel off her hand with a frown.

Blaine had freaked when she'd told him Kurt had a date with Dave Karofsky tonight. Despite her insistence that Dave seemed to have changed, Blaine kept insisting that she didn't know everything (although he wouldn't elaborate) and that Kurt wasn't safe. He'd picked her up an hour later, unsmiling and quiet: completely unlike the confident, ebullient guy she'd seen and heard about before.

After a couple false starts, Blaine finally said, "Kurt looks..."

"Smoking," Mercedes finished with a nod, looking fondly at where her boy was chatting in line with Dave.

Blaine scowled. "I just don't think he should be provoking him."

"Provoking? What're you talking about?"

Blaine just shook his head and continued frowning at his coffee.

"Boy, would you just spill?" Mercedes demanded. "I don't get you. Kurt is back home, happy, befriending someone he used to be scared of. Finally back in control of his life! You should be happy for him."

"That thug kissed him." Blaine spat out. At Mercedes' confused look, he reluctantly retold the entire saga as Kurt had relayed it to him all those weeks ago.

Mercedes looked disturbed. "I don't know what to do with this. You think Dave's going to, what? Rape him or something 'cause he looks hot tonight?"

"NO! No. I just think Kurt's eventually going to get hurt. This guy is seriously unstable."

Mercedes shook her head slowly. "Hold up. You haven't seen Dave in a while. I'm telling you, the guy is different. Quiet. He doesn't hang with his old crowd, doesn't bully. He was even a help with the posters." When Blaine opened his mouth to protest, she held up a hand. "No, I mean it. I'm not excusing the crap he put Kurt through. But the guy was clearly terrified of being outed. Justifiably. In a way, school's been even worse for him than it was for Kurt. Dave's been completely ostracized. If it weren't for the guys in glee, he'd have been seriously bashed by now. And you're telling me he likes Kurt enough to have accidentally outed himself by kissing him?

Now it was Blaine's turn to to look disturbed.

"Hon, I think we're just going to have to trust that our boy knows what he's doing," Mercedes said.

* * *

"So, why did you quit the hockey team?" Kurt asked once they'd lined up.

A frown flickered on Dave's face, and Kurt briefly regretted putting it there. But really, that's why they were here, right? To get to know each other?

"Locker room was a hassle," Dave admitted. "And, um, between tripping, slashing and checks into the boards, ice time wasn't much better."

"Sounds painful. Was Azimio in on it?"

"No. Not on the hockey team," Dave replied. "He, uh, pretty much ignores me now, unless the other guys are around."

"It's all about keeping up appearances, huh?"

Dave looked up and met his gaze. "Yeah. It was. … Sorry."

Kurt was about to reply when they reached the head of the line. "Oh thank god! Grande nonfat latte and a slice of chocolate torte, please."

"Just another refill," Dave added, pushing forward his mug and a twenty.

"Thanks," Kurt said when they settled back in their seats. "I'll get it next time, though. I insist." Eyes closed ecstatically as he took his first bite of cake, he didn't see Dave fumble his sugar. "Oh my god! I have been craving this for days. I think Artie and Britt have turned me into a chocoholic."

At the funny look on Dave's face, he elaborated, "They MADE me eat chocolate. Between that and the clicking and the spying (sorry about that) … anyhow, it was a bit of a crazy week... What?"

Dave had the back of his hand over his mouth and appeared to be struggling. Unused to the sight, it took Kurt a good couple seconds to figure out he was trying not to laugh.

"What?"

"I, uh, think Artie and blondie-"

"Brittany..."

"Right. Um, might've been trying to help me out," Dave carefully stirred yet another sugar into his coffee. "Dude's, like, the nicest guy I've ever met. Brittany though..."

Kurt narrowed his eyes. "You're stalling."

Laughter still twitching at the corners of his mouth, Dave relented. "Well, that day you were trying to break into my locker..."

* * *

"What!"

At Kurt's shriek, four heads whipped around. To everyone's surprise, although their boy looked totally offended, his date was merely laughing. Uncontrollably. Kurt crossed his arms and tried to maintain his outrage, but in the face of Dave's mirth, even Blaine had to admit he wasn't doing a great job of it. Kurt's head cocked to the side as he drank in the sight of Dave, actually happy.

"C'mon, Fancy. Eat your chocolate like a good boy," Dave teased once he stopped laughing. He extended a forkful of torte to Kurt. His smile dropped though when the other boy, bemused, wrapped his lips around the bite and slid it into his mouth. Gaze transfixed on Kurt's mouth, Dave could barely breathe, let alone laugh, now. Especially once Kurt's tongue swept out to collect a crumb at the corner of his lips.

"David?"

Dave dropped the fork with a clatter and looked up in horror.

"D-dad? Mom?"

Oh shit. Kurt hastily wiped his lips with a napkin.

"I thought you were meeting the guys at Breadstix, David," Mr. Karofsky said, troubled eyes on Kurt.

"Change of venue," Kurt said with forced brightness, extending his hand. "Hello again, sir. And I don't think I've met your wife. I'm Kurt Hummel. Would you care to join us?"

Dave shot him a panicked look.

Mrs. Karofsky looked very confused. "Paul, is this the boy...?"

"Yes," he took his wife's hand. "David, what's going on? I thought we'd told you to stay away from Kurt."

Again, Dave had nothing.

"I-I'm sorry, sir. I invited myself," Kurt said. "Now that I'm back at McKinley, I thought Dave and I should sort out our differences in a … civilized fashion. And nothing's more civilized than coffee and cake!"

This didn't seem to reassure either parent.

"Thanks for saving me some cake, hon," piped a familiar voice. Blaine squeezed past the Karofskys into the bench beside Kurt just as Mercedes did the same on Dave's side.

"Hi … guys?" said Kurt. What the hell was going on?

"Sorry we're late," Blaine said, nodding politely to the Karofskys. "I got lost on the way to pick up Mercedes here."

Mercedes shrugged an apology. Beside her, Dave's eyes were focused somewhere over Kurt's shoulder. "Hudson?" he said.

Kurt swivelled to see Finn approaching. He was wearing the most godawful getup Kurt had ever seen. A disguise? Kurt shot his brother a glare. Judas! Finn swallowed but pasted a sickly smile on his face, "Hey guys, couldn't save me a seat?"

"David, who's this?" asked Mr. Karofsky.

"Finn Hudson," Finn shook hands with Dave's dad, but his mom looked aghast and didn't extend her hand. "I'm on the football team with Karof- uh, Dave."

"Dave, this is the football captain?" Mrs. Karofsky asked her son. At his nod, she grew even more agitated. "But you hate him!"

Everyone froze. Mr. Karofsky wrapped an arm around his wife. "I don't know what's going on here, David. You're not where you said you'd be, or who you said you'd be with. Combined with everything else... Well, we're going to have to talk when you get home. Please don't be long." His troubled gaze swept the motley group of young people surrounding his son, before he gently guided his wife away and out of the cafe.

With a moan, Dave dropped his head into his hands. Kurt would deal with him later. But first things first: "Finn?"

"Kurt. Dude, I am so sorry. Your dad got it out of me and flipped. He was gonna charge down here with, like, a rifle or something. Mom talked him into letting us come instead to, you know, chaperone."

"Carole's here too?" Kurt looked around until he spotted her. She offered him a troubled smile and a little wave.

"I'm just gonna..."

Kurt waved his stepbrother off. That's right, run back to mommy. "What about you two?"

Mercedes and Blaine exchanged a look. "My fault," Blaine admitted. "You were so freaked when you called that I called up Mercedes..."

"And when I told him who you were seeing, he got worried," Mercedes offered tentatively. "You never told me about the kiss."

"Great," Dave mumbled.

Kurt ignored him. "Because it was between me and Dave. Just like this date was supposed to be between me and Dave."

Blaine opened his mouth to say something, but Kurt wouldn't let him. "No, seriously. This is my life. I appreciate that you were looking out for me and maybe even tried to salvage the situation with Dave's parents, but you've only managed to make everything worse." He let that sink in for a second before sending Mercedes a get-out-of-here-please-and-take-Blaine-with-you look. Thank god the girl could read his mind.

"C'mon, Blaine," she said. "I need to get home."

"Kurt, I-" Mercedes dragged him out before he could get anything else out.

Kurt focused his attention back on Dave. His date looked scared and defeated.

"Dave?..."

"This was a bad idea," Dave said heavily, in a low voice.

"What was a-"

"You should've been here with someone like that Blaine guy. And I shouldn't be here at all."

Kurt nodded slowly, keeping his eyes on Dave. "But I don't want someone like Blaine. I mean, I did. But I don't … now."

Dave's face crumpled just a bit. "Kurt... I'm still getting used to the idea that I'm... It's hard. I'm not ready to... I just... sometimes I'm still not sure I want to want you."

Kurt felt like he'd been punched in the chest. He made to lean back, but on seeing the expression on his face, Dave shocked him by reaching and grabbing both his hands. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. That sounded-"

"Harsh."

"That's not how I meant it."

Kurt swallowed and focused on trying to get enough air in his lungs. "You didn't tell your parents what you were doing tonight," he managed eventually.

"You didn't tell your dad who you'd be with... God. This is so messed up. What're we doing?"

Kurt looked at their hands, fingered now entwined in the middle of the table. "We're getting to know each other. Just friends getting to know each other: no more, no less."

Dave nodded.

"So, my completely platonic friend, do you want me to be with you when you talk with your parents? You're mom seemed pretty upset. I think you're going to have to …"

"Yeah," Dave's voice cracked.

"I'm happy to provide moral support. You're not alone."

Dave gave his hands a squeeze before drawing away, "Thanks, but I'd better do this on my own."

Carole approached tentatively as Dave and Kurt shrugged into their coats.

"Boys," she said. "I'm so sorry for- I've sent Finn home. Kurt, maybe you could drive Dave home in his car, and I'll follow in yours? I just thought... it's been an upsetting night. Maybe Dave shouldn't... "

"It's okay, Mrs. Hudson," Dave said. "I've got steady hands. Even when my head's a mess."

He nodded in Kurt's direction before walking heavily out.

Kurt felt ill watching him go. "Carole, could you drive?" he asked, handing over his keys. "It's been a hell of a night."

* * *

**See? Angsty-land. Sorry! It's going to be a bit of a trek back to happy-land. But there should be at least a couple laughs along the way.**

**Songs: Chemical by Hawksley Workman; Fire With Fire by the Scissor Sisters**


	11. D day: epilogue

Thank god for Carole. She'd been able to hold Burt off until Saturday morning. But after a fitful sleep, it was time for Kurt to pay the piper.

"You wouldn't understand. You're not gay!"

"Don't give me that!" Burt stabbed his cereal spoon emphatically in Kurt's direction. "I understand you're a compassionate kid. But dating the guy who threatened your life is taking gay solidarity too far! You stay away from him!"

"Or what? Dad, this is important. He's changed! And he really needs a friend."

"Doesn't have to be you. Let Finn be his friend."

"Uh - dude hates me," Finn said, then sent his mom a frown when she swatted his arm. "Stay out of it," she mouthed.

Burt shot Finn a dark look. The jangle of the phone interrupted anything he might have added, and Finn jumped at it.

"Kurt," Burt started. "I'm asking you to pl-"

"Uh, Burt," Finn cut in. "Phone's for you. Says it's Paul Karofsky."

Burt sighed heavily and rubbed his forehead.

"Hon?" Carole asked tentatively.

"Okay. Okay - everybody out. I'll deal with this."

* * *

"Any idea what they talked about?" Tina asked.

"No," Kurt replied bitterly. "Carole wouldn't let me listen in. Whatever it was, it got dad off my back... I just wish Dave had called! Or at least answered my texts. I mean, how much time does it take to type 'I'm fine?' Unless he's not fine... Argh!"

Mercedes shot Tina a worried look as she rubbed Kurt's back. It was Monday, and they were in in the choir room for practice after school. Which made it three full days that Mercedes had had to deal with her boy's worrying.

"I'm sure he's fine-"

"You don't KNOW that," Kurt replied. He looked up as Mr. Schue entered the room and noticed a familiar figure passing by.

"Dave!" Kurt vaulted up and skidded out into the near-empty hallway.

"Hey," Dave said, turning around. He looked terrible. Red eyes, pale.

"Hey? That's all you've got? I have been worried sick about you! Are you okay? Scratch that; of course you're not okay..."

The corner of Dave's mouth hitched up a little. "I'm fine. Really."

"Then why didn't you answer any of my texts you- you jerk?" Kurt shouted. "You probably haven't been 'fine' since your parents crashed our date. Since before then! And what the hell were they doing at the Bean anyway?"

"Hoping for a bit of a date themselves," Dave replied sheepishly. "They were worried about me and wanted to talk, I guess. Got a bit more than they counted on..."

"So you told them?"

"Yeah. They, um, mostly figured it out themselves. When they saw me, uh, feeding you."

"And? How did they take it? Why weren't you in class today?"

"Weekend was a bit, uh … intense. Mom's a drama queen. She thought I was on drugs or steroids or suicidal or something before. So there was lots of talking, crying, more talking. I feel kinda hung over, actually."

"So, what? You slept it off all day?"

"Naw. Slept in, then my parents got me in with my GP for a referral to- um... a therapist."

"Oh my god, they're forcing you into conversion therapy!" Kurt cried, horror etched in every tense line of his body. "That is completely outrageous! It should be illegal." He started pacing. "Never mind, you can move in with us. I'm sure dad and Carole will be okay once I explain it to them. It'll be tight with you, me and Finn all sharing a room, but we can get a bunkbed, and I totally don't mind being on top." At Dave's puzzled expression, he changed tack. "Forget it, you're right. Until you're 18, you're vulnerable. God! There has got to be some kind of underground railroad for conversion therapy refugees!" He finally stopped and placed both hands on Dave's shoulders. "Look. Don't worry. We will figure this out. I am not going to let anything bad happen to you."

Dave's heart lurched at the passion in Kurt's gaze. But even though his sincerity and proximity felt really, really good, Dave had to come clean.

"Actually, they, uh... kinda took the gay thing in stride. Apparently it's preferable to suicidal addict."

Dave watched that sink in. Confusion replaced Kurt's righteous anger, and he slowly slid his hands from Dave's shoulders. Damn.

"They want me to see someone 'cause they think I might be... uh, depressed," Dave confessed

Kurt looked poleaxed. "Oh," he said eventually. "And do you think you might be? Um, depressed?"

Dave looked down, studied his feet. Christ, this was awkward. Guys didn't talk about this stuff, did they? Or were there different rules for gay guys? "Well, I haven't been, uh... happy. In a long time."

Kurt was silent a moment. Then his hands were back on Dave's shoulders. "Hey," he said softly. "You just came out to your parents. And the world didn't end. That's something to be happy about, right?"

Lump in his throat, Dave nodded.

"Dave, you just came out." Dave could hear the smile in Kurt's voice. He desperately wanted to respond in kind, but didn't want the other boy to see the tears that had inexplicably flooded his eyes. Thank god Kurt chose that moment to launch himself at Dave in a fierce hug. "Don't worry. Platonic hug," Kurt whispered. Dave wrapped his arms tightly around Kurt's back and waist, hanging on for dear life as the tears he'd been trying to suppress finally spilled over. He took a few deep, shaky breaths, drawing in the scent at Kurt's neck as he tried to get himself back under control.

"Is everything okay?" Artie asked tentatively from the doorway. The boys broke apart. Dave hurriedly dragged a sleeve across his face as Kurt pulled him into the choir room.

"Dave just came out to his parents," Kurt announced. Hearing it said aloud again was a shock. Dave looked up, surprised to note that the other boy's eyes were wet, before looking around the rest of the room. The gleeks all looked a little shocked themselves.

It was Sam who spoke first, "D'it go okay, man?"

Still unable to trust his voice, Dave gave a jerky nod.

"That's great!" Artie said, face splitting into his trademark sweet smile. He rolled forward and clasped Dave's hand. That seemed to break the tension in the room. Suddenly, it seemed everyone was coming forward to offer their congratulations. Mr. Shuester shook his hand; Finn and Puck awkwardly patted his back; Rachel, Mercedes, Brittany, Tina, Sam and Mike each hugged him; Quinn and Santana even stroked his arms before Lauren delivered a 'friendly' slug that would likely leave a bruise.

"Well," declared Kurt with a smile as he wiped his cheeks. "I think this calls for a celebration."

Replying with a wet grin of her own, Rachel agreed. "Well, we have been working on something that would fit the occasion. So, Dave, on behalf of all of us: congratulations. Hit it!"

A driving beat filled the choir room. Dave watched, bemused, as the gleeks drifted into groups, their heads bobbing with the music. The girls started them off, each taking 3 lines.

_Visions of you_

_Visions of me_

_Everything we wanted_

_I wanna be_

_Frozen in time_

_Forever in this moment_

_How you wanna live?_

_What you wanna feel?_

_Don't you know you make me feel_

_So alive_

_What you wanna do?_

_What you wanna feel?_

_I know you wanna live your life right_

Dave recognized the song from the radio. Bobbing his head now as well, he watched Kurt dance around and join in on the chorus with the other guys.

_The night is young_

_And so are we_

_We can do anything_

_We wanna, baby_

_The night is young_

_And so are we_

_We can be anyone_

_We wanna, baby_

_Cause we are_

_Free Free Free Free Free Free_

_And life is_

_Free Free Free Free Free Free_

The boys took the next part, Kurt on lead, singing directly to Dave.

_Baby it's all good (Baby it's all good)_

_When I look at you (When I look at you)_

_And I see that you (And I see that you)_

_Made it through everything (Made it through everything)_

_After all of the ups and downs (All of the ups and downs)_

_We figured it out_

_And I will know_

_How to ride it out_

Dave willingly let Brittany pull him in to join the dancing group. Saying no would be like kicking a puppy, and he didn't want to anyway. Beat pulsing through his blood, he closed his eyes and let the music take him.

_The night is young_

_And so are we_

_We can do anything_

_We wanna, baby_

_The night is young_

_And so are we_

_We can be anyone_

_We wanna, baby_

_Cause we are_

_Free Free Free Free Free Free_

_And life is_

_Free Free Free Free Free Free_

Eyes closed, head lifted up, Dave continued to spin round and round. A smile finally graced his face: for the first time in a long time, he FELT free. And with new friends, maybe he COULD make it through everything.

"Boy can move," Mr. Schuester said quietly, taking in the scene. "Wonder if he can sing?"

* * *

**Not the end, promise.**

**Song: Night is young (Nelly Furtado)**


	12. Is this you?

"I need to talk to you."

"No comment," Kurt replied automatically to Jacob ben Israel's request.

"You don't even know what I want to talk about!"

"Sorry, you're right. Reflex. What's up?" Kurt apologized, turning from his locker.

"It's about the interview I did with Rachel. About the posters?" Jacob explained as they started walking down the hall. "You read it, right?"

"Of course. When it went up. It was great - you guys covered everything. What's the problem? Rachel not putting out like you'd hoped?"

"No. Well, yes. But no. It's the comments."

"You should be used to hate mail by now."

Jacob stopped Kurt with a hand on his arm. "It's not the hate mail. Or even the fan mail. It's something else."

Jacob forced a print-out into his hand. Curious (he'd never seen the 'reporter' so serious: lascivious, prurient and obnoxious, yes; serious, no), Kurt started reading and felt a cold dread settle on him.

* * *

"Is this you?"

A visibly upset Kurt, the Jew-fro reporter in his wake, barreled at Dave and waved a piece of paper in his face. Carefully, Dave guided him away from the door so other students could leave class for the day.

"Well?"

Dave rapidly scanned the page, starting to shake his head before he even reached the bottom. God, this was …

"Not me."

"Do you SWEAR?" Kurt choked, poking his finger hard into Dave's shoulder. "Do you swear this isn't you? Don't! Lie!"

They were starting to garner attention. Azimio shot them a curious frown as he passed, but the boys didn't notice. Dave bent his knees just enough to put him exactly level with Kurt.

"I swear," he repeated, dead serious as he looked into Kurt's eyes. "I didn't write this, any of it. I would never..." He swallowed. "I'm okay, alright?"

Kurt sniffed and nodded.

"Congratulations," Jacob interrupted. "But someone else isn't."

* * *

"No press!" Rachel's shrill voice rang out as Kurt, Dave and Jacob entered the choir room. "We're discussion the set list for regionals, and that is strictly embargoed until after the competition!"

"This trumps regionals," Kurt insisted. "Mr. Schue, can Jacob have the floor?"

As confused as everyone else, the teacher nodded.

"Hi," Jacob waggled his fingers nervously at the seated gleeks. "Um, right. So, my blog's been getting a lot of traffic lately. Comments on the interview I did with Rachel about the, uh, poster campaign. It's kind of turned into a forum. Lots of positive feedback. Personal stories. Lots of … filth. Today, midmorning I think, someone posted something different." He looked to the side, where Kurt stood hugging himself, Dave close behind, hand on his shoulder to offer strength and support.

"Read it," Dave said.

Lips compressed, Jacob nodded, then began:

_Dear haters,_

_Most days I hate me more than you ever could, so why bother? Gay, faggot, fairy. Call me whatever you want. I'll admit to it here. But why do you bother? What have I ever done to you? Why hurt someone who is otherwise invisible? Does it make you feel big and strong? And what will you do when I'm gone? Because I'm no stupid fag. I know how to stop the pain: I've done my research. I know how to slip the knot. Mix the pills. Slice the blade (up, not across). One of these mornings there will be one less Lima loser in the halls. What will you do? Feel? Anything? I doubt you'll even notice. It will be like invisible me had never been. That sounds pretty good right now. Pain-free._

_Invisible Me_

Stunned silence reigned in the room until Finn asked, "Is that...?" and Rachel answered, "A suicide note." Then hushed murmurs of 'Oh my god' and 'who?' and 'do you think they're serious?' broke out as friends turned to each other.

"Jacob," Mr. Shuester's voice rang out. "Come with me. I need you to show that to Ms. Pillsbury, then we're going to see Principal Figgins." Jacob swallowed then nodded his assent. Mr. Shuester turned to face the choir, his face hard with concern. "Guys, guys - settle down. This isn't necessarily a suicide note. It could just be a cry for help."

"But it could be serious," Santana insisted, voice cracking. Brittany put her arm around the other girl.

"Yes it could," Mr. Shue agreed. "Which is why I'm bringing it to the school guidance counselor and principal. It's their job to take care of this. Not yours." He raised his hands to calm the grumbling this caused. "Guys. Guys! You did the right thing bringing this to me. And the fact that you care so much says a lot about you. But you are kids, and it's up to the grown ups to take it from here. So, please, just go home. We'll have to worry about regionals tomorrow. Go home." He swept his eyes across the group once more, then nodded for Jacob to follow and left the room.

The silence didn't last long. Surprisingly, it was Quinn who broke it. "Well, this is one kid who's old enough to have had a baby."

"Fucking A," Puck agreed.

Mercedes rushed over to hug Kurt. "Jacob didn't read everything," he said in a hushed voice. "After the- the letter, some monster posted 'do it'."

"Oh my god," Mercedes squeezed her friend harder.

"We started this," Rachel said. That got everyone's attention. "With the posters? And the interview? I'm not saying we're the reason some kid at the school wants to..." she faltered, then managed to pull herself together. "But we got people talking. And since we started the conversation, we're already involved."

"So, what do we do?" Sam asked.

"Well, first things first," Quinn said after a moment. "What does this kid need right now?"

"A hug," Brittany said quietly.

"The Trevor Project," said Dave. Kurt withdrew from Mercedes' arms, wiped his eyes and turned to face the other boy.

"What's that?" Artie asked.

Dave opened his mouth, but gave Kurt a pleading look. "It's a suicide hotline for gay youth," Kurt said. "Dave's right, we need to get that kid in touch with them somehow."

"More posters?" Tina suggested.

"No," Dave disagreed. "If I were this guy, I wouldn't be caught dead copying the number down. Plus, I'm sure he's not only kid in school who could use it."

"Business cards. Stuffed into every locker in the school," Rachel decided. "My daddy can print them off tonight, and we can distribute them before first bell tomorrow."

That got several nods.

"We should include a regular youth crisis hotline number too. Not everyone who needs help is gay," Finn added, a little defensively.

"Agreed," Kurt said with an approving nod.

"Okay," Quinn said. "It's a start. Let's sleep on it and talk again tomorrow."

* * *

Finally in bed after an emotionally wrought discussion with his dad, Kurt's cell phone pulled him from the first stages of a fitful sleep.

"'lo?" he mumbled.

"Sorry to call so late," said a familiar voice. "It's, uh, Dave. Did I wake you up?"

"S'okay," Kurt replied.

"I, uh, had this idea, and wanted to ask: have you guys already picked songs for regionals?"

"Just 'Raise your glass,'" he said, confused. "We still need a ballad and another, faster number. Why?"

"Like I said. Just an idea. Let me work on it and I'll tell you tomorrow," Dave said. "Also, I wanted to say... This afternoon. You know, when you thought I was the one who'd written-? ... Well. Just. Thanks for caring. It means a lot to me," he added quietly.

Kurt's throat tightened. "I do care. A lot."

"Me too... G'night, Kurt."

"Goodnight, Dave. See you tomorrow."


	13. Don't give up

"So what's your idea?" Kurt asked as he and a tired-looking Dave pushed business cards into lockers the next morning.

"It's about regionals," Dave began. "I mean, I know I'm not in glee or anything, but- Well, you know how you guys always do a performance for the school before competition? What if the regionals set was also about, you know, all this?" Kurt stopped what he was doing to give the other boy his undivided attention. Encouraged, Dave continued. "'Raise your glass' is all about, like, freaks and geeks and celebrating who you are, right? So what if you ended on that, but started the set on the other end of the social-acceptance spectrum?"

"I take it you have a song in mind?" A small smile formed as his brain worked overtime. Kurt could see where Dave was going with this...

"Yeah. A couple. My mom found one of them, actually. Online. She's been making me watch 'It gets better' videos with her practically every night."

"You're kidding me," Kurt said on a laugh.

Dave snorted. "Wish I was. She even programmed the Trevor number into my cell. Anyway, this Australian chick's done a message over one of her own songs. Sia something-or-other?"

Kurt shook his head. Really, HE was the one in glee club. How the heck did Dave keep managing to find artists he'd never even heard of?

"Huh. Anyway, the song's perfect. Check it..." Dave sang a bit of the chorus in a low, smooth voice, but stopped at Kurt's sudden squinty-eyed look.

"You can sing!" he accused.

Dave shrugged self-consciously. "Not the point. Anyway, what do you think?"

I think you are full of surprises, David Karofsky, Kurt thought. Quiet jock with a wannabe-PFLAG mother, encyclopedic knowledge of obscure music and melting-smooth baritone? Who knew actually talking would yield so many … interesting revelations? "I think it's genius. You up to explaining your idea to the rest of glee club?"

Dave didn't look quite as enthused about that idea, but he agreed, even suggesting they all meet in Bieste's office at lunch, because he had something he wanted to show them, too.

* * *

Kurt spread the word about lunchtime to the rest of the gleeks and then endured as the morning dragged and dragged and dragged. Word had gotten out about the suicide note. Students whispered in groups, eyed each other in the halls and scrawled messages directly onto the gay anti-bullying posters after the school blog was taken down. Teachers responded by cracking down. The combination was tortuous. Kurt was sure he wasn't the only one who felt like a powder-keg about to blow with frustration. Fortunately, the lunchbell precluded any such disaster. Kurt burst into Bieste's office to find that half the gang already there. Five minutes later, the guys having streamed in from the locker room, the girls through the door adjoining the hallway, and they were squashed but good to go. With a nod from Kurt, Dave took a deep breath and began. His idea of combining their set for regionals with a message for the student body was received warmly, but his initial song selection got some pushback.

"No offense, but you're not part of the group," Quinn said. "I've never even heard of that artist."

Dave looked nervous, but he stuck to his guns. "Look, just close your eyes and listen, okay?" He typed away on his laptop for a second, and the song came up. Kurt closed his eyes along with everyone else and took it in. Dave was right: the song was perfect. When the final note faded away, Kurt jumped in. "This'll work. Rachel, Tina, Quinn: you guys can have a really sweet tone to your voices. You can take the verses."

Mercedes nodded her head. She could hear it too. "Me, Santana and Artie can take the runs."

"What? We just sway in the background?" Finn asked with a frown. The other guys grumbled their discontent.

Uh oh. Kurt shot Dave a concerned look. If the guys didn't buy in... But Dave had it covered. Tapping away again on his laptop, he said, "No. Everyone can be in on the chorus, and 'Raise your glass' is going to need everybody's voices. Wall of sound, you know? Like an anthem. And for the ballad, the middle song, it should be the guys taking turns with the verses." He clicked a key and haunting music filled the small room. By the end of the track, tears were streaming down several faces and people were nodding. Talk about emotional punch. Going in for the kill, Dave brought up a new screen. "And I thought, while you guys were singing, we should have this going in the background. On, like, screens at the back of the stage? Not for regionals, obviously, but for here..." People craned forward to see the small screen.

"That's genius," Quinn admitted after a moment.

"It really is," Rachel agreed. "Dave, as co-head of glee club, it is my great honour to dub you honorary member. Our first official hemi-gleek."

"Uh, thanks?" Dave said, shooting Kurt a perplexed look.

"This is all great," Mercedes said. "But how're we going to convince Mr. Schue? You guys know what a control freak he is when it comes to choosing songs for competition."

"Well, the ballad's the same era as that Journey stuff..." Sam volunteered.

"Fuck it," said Puck. "We'll just TELL him how it's going to be."

"We won't have to go all 'punk on his ass,'" Rachel said with a supremely satisfied smile. "What's going to clinch it is the fact that with this set list, we'll be a lock to win at regionals. Compared to us, the other groups are going to amount to nothing more than emotionally hollow spectacle. These lyrics, combined, create a narrative arc that will make our performance more than just a matter of song and dance. We'll be engaging the audience in conversation, speaking directly to the alienated child that lives inside of everyone and taking them by the hand to a place of compassion, acceptance, love and celebration. We can't lose."

Buoyed by Rachel's confidence, the gleeks started planning. Kurt shot Dave a brilliant smile with two thumbs up.

"She, uh, always talk like that?" Dave whispered.

Kurt leaned forward conspiratorially. "I'll never admit it to anyone else, but she only gets like that when she's right," he whispered.

"What the hell?" Conversation screeched to a standstill. Everyone whipped their heads to where Coach Bieste stood in the open doorway.

"C- coach," said Dave. "I can explain..."

Coach Bieste swept her eyes around the office, taking in tear-stained faces, anxious looks and the picture on the computer screen. "Did I ask?" She said finally.

That got several heads in the room shaking 'no.'

"So don't tell." She handed a large roll of posters to Artie, who sat nearest her. "Tuck these away somewhere would you? Figgins's called an assembly for this Friday. In the mean time, he's got staff removing those anti-bullying posters. Some jokers've scrawled some offensive stuff on 'em. Pillsbury's got replacements that'll be going up this afternoon. They're pretty terrible." She looked around the room again, noting the unhappy looks being exchanged. "Apple please," she said, pointing to her desk.

Dave tossed her the apple. Bieste caught it one-handed and took a bite. "You let me know if you need anything, Dave. You remember the code for the photocopier?" At his mute nod, she said, "Good," then walked out, closing the door behind her.

"Guys, guys, calm down!" Finn yelled over the murmurs that followed Bieste's departure.

"Two days isn't enough time," Tina said.

"There's no way Brittany and I can nail the choreography that quick," Mike agreed.

Dave looked at the suddenly defeated faces and saw his idea dying. "What is this?" he insisted. "I thought you said glee wasn't for losers." There were several sharp inhalations in the room. "Why're you giving up so easy? Berry said it: forget spectacle. This is about talking to the audience. To the- the kid who feels so fucking small and scared and alone that he's ready to off himself! It's just three songs."

"Dave's right," Finn said, looking at Dave with something like respect.

Rachel nodded. "We can do it. Most of us already know the Pink song. We can print out the other two, divvy them up right here and now. We can do it. We have to."

* * *

An hour in, Figgins' droning platitudes finally started winding down: "...beginning Monday, each student will be meeting Ms. Pillsbury-Howell for a ten-minute session. Your homeroom teacher will inform you of your time-slot next week. In conclusion, I would ask you to remember that here at McKinley, we embrace the values of tolerance and mutual respect. Now. To take our minds off these serious matters, I give you the McKinley glee club!"

Dave nodded at the skinny AV geek who'd refused to abandon his post when Dave'd snuck in halfway Figgins' presentation. He plunged the auditorium into darkness. Dave lit up the large screens at the back of the stage with image-only reproductions of the anti-bullying posters. As the music started up, spotlights hit the gleeks, fanned out across the front of the stage, and Dave cued up the show. Words and phrases lifted from Jacob's blog and the posters in Bieste's office drifted across the screens as the girls started singing:

- faggots need to burn - nigger - you suck - i squish fairies - freaks - go to hell - you don't belong here - whore - dykes belong in Holland - fudge packers - never gonna get used to it - morbidly obese is dead ugly - fag -

_**[Tina]**_

_You, you don't like my hair_

_You don't like what I wear_

_I'm flying, trying, you see I'm trying_

_Why do you try to change me all the time?_

_**[Quinn]**_

_You, you say that I talk too much_

_I know it drives you nuts_

_You tell me you wish I was better, better, yeah_

_You roll your eyes forgetting I am in the room_

_**[Everyone]**_

_You're hurting me now_

_you take me down and you don't even know it_

_You think it's a joke_

_but baby you don't, you don't even notice_

_You're hurting me now_

_you take me down and you don't even know it_

_You think it's a joke_

_but baby you don't, you don't even notice_

_**[Rachel]**_

_You, you say I sing too loud_

_I want you to be proud_

_I want you screaming out that girl is mine I love her, love her_

_But you've already tuned me out_

_**[Brittany]**_

_You, you know these words you say_

_Are causing us decay_

_You feel like I'm withdrawing, I am running away_

_You're pushing, you're pushing me_

_**[Everyone]**_

_You're hurting me now_

_you take me down and you don't even know it_

_You think it's a joke_

_but baby you don't, you don't even notice_

_**[Everyone, ft. Santana, Mercedes and Artie]**_

_Don't want you to blow it, you're hurting me_

_I know you don't know it_

_Don't want you to blow it, you're hurting me_

_I know you don't know it_

_Don't want you to blow it, you're hurting me_

_I know you don't know it_

_Don't want you to blow it, you're hurting me_

_I know you don't know it_

_You're hurting me now_

_you take me down and you don't even know it_

_You think it's a joke_

_but baby you don't, you don't even notice_

_You're hurting me now_

_you take me down and you don't even know it_

_You think it's a joke_

_but baby you don't, you don't even notice_

As the music declared the next song, Dave clicked for the next slide. He heard the AV kid suck in his breath when the suicide note lit up the screens onstage, writ large, white on black.

_**[Finn]**_

_In this proud land we grew up strong_

_We were wanted all along_

_I was taught to fight, taught to win_

_I never thought I could fail_

_No fight left or so it seems_

_I am a man whose dreams have all deserted_

_I've changed my face, I've changed my name_

_But no one wants you when you lose_

_**[Kurt]**_

_Don't give up_

_'Cause you have friends_

_**[Rachel]**_

_Don't give up_

_You're not beaten yet_

_**[Mercedes]**_

_Don't give up_

_I know you can make it good_

_**[Sam]**_

_Though I saw it all around_

_Never thought I could be affected_

_Thought that we'd be the last to go_

_It is so strange the way things turn_

_Drove the night toward my home_

_The place that I was born, on the lakeside_

_As daylight broke, I saw the earth_

_The trees had burned down to the ground_

_**[Quinn]**_

_Don't give up_

_You still have us_

_**[Santana]**_

_Don't give up_

_We don't need much of anything_

_**[Tina]**_

_Don't give up_

_'Cause somewhere there's a place_

_Where we belong_

_**[Rachel]**_

_Rest your head_

_You worry too much_

_It's going to be alright_

_When times get rough_

_You can fall back on us_

_Don't give up_

_Please don't give up_

_**[Artie]**_

_Got to walk out of here_

_I can't take anymore_

_Going to stand on that bridge_

_Keep my eyes down below_

_Whatever may come_

_And whatever may go_

_That river's flowing_

_That river's flowing_

_**[Puck]**_

_Moved on to another town_

_Tried hard to settle down_

_For every job, so many men_

_So many men no-one needs_

_**[Kurt]**_

_Don't give up_

_'Cause you have friends_

_Don't give up_

_You're not the only one_

_Don't give up_

_No reason to be ashamed_

_Don't give up_

_You still have us_

_Don't give up now_

_We're proud of who you are_

_Don't give up_

_You know it's never been easy_

_Don't give up_

_'Cause I believe there's a place_

_There's a place where we belong _

Halfway the song, scrawled phrases of encouragement started raining down the screens, erasing the desperate words of the suicide note until they were all that was left:

- don't give up - you are loved - don't give up - hugs - don't give up - you are not invisible - don't give up - call me - don't give up - you are beautiful - don't give up - i see you - don't give up - let me share the pain - don't give up - you are perfect just the way you are - don't give up -

At the first guitar riffs, Dave changed the screens back to the posters and started the slide show, this time featuring only the positive blog and written comments. "Hey, dude, thought we were doing a disco-ball effect over the crowd, now," he said. When he got no response, Dave turned to find the AV kid hunched in his chair, rocking back and forth with hands over his mouth, tears streaming down his face. "Shit." Dave scrambled to hit the buttons for the lights himself, hoping he got it right as the final song unfolded.

- big is beautiful - nice wheels - black sugar is the sweetest kind - fairies make the world a magical place - i'm used to it - i'm gay - love curves - don't forget the bisexuals! - nice ass - live and let live - can i come out now? -

_**[Santana]**_

_Right right, turn off the lights_

_We gonna lose our minds tonight_

_What's the dealio?_

_**[Brittany]**_

_I love when it's all too much_

_5 AM turn the radio up_

_Where's the rock and roll?_

_**[Artie]**_

_Party crasher, panty snatcha'_

_Call me up if you are gangsta'_

_Don't be fancy_

_Just get dancey_

_Why so serious?_

_**[Everyone]**_

_So raise your glass if you are wrong_

_In all the right ways_

_All my underdogs, we will never be, never be_

_Anything but loud_

_And nitty gritty dirty little freaks_

_Won't you come on, and come on, and_

_Raise your glass_

_Just come on and come and_

_Raise your glass!_

_**[Finn]**_

_Slam slam oh hot damn_

_What part of party don't you understand?_

_Wish you'd just freak out (freak out already)_

_**[Rachel]**_

_Can't stop coming in hot_

_I should be locked up right on the spot_

_It's so on right now (so freakin' on right now)_

_**[Artie]**_

_Party crasher, panty snatcha'_

_Call me up if you a gangsta'_

_Don't be fancy_

_Just get dancey_

_Why so serious?_

_**[Everyone]**_

_So raise your glass if you are wrong_

_In all the right ways_

_All my underdogs, we will never be, never be_

_Anything but loud_

_And nitty gritty dirty little freaks_

_Won't you come on, and come on, and_

_Raise your glass_

_Just come on and come and_

_Raise your glass!_

_Won't you come on and come on and_

_Raise your glass!_

_Just come on and come and_

_Raise your glass!_

_**[Puck and Mercedes]**_

_So if you're too school for cool (I mean...)_

_And you're treated like a fool (treated like a fool)_

_You could choose to let it go_

_We can always, we can always_

_party on our own..._

_**[Everyone]**_

_So raise your (aw shit)_

_So raise your glass if you are wrong_

_In all the right ways_

_All my underdogs, we will never be, never be_

_Anything but loud_

_And nitty gritty dirty little freaks_

_So raise your glass if you are wrong_

_In all the right ways_

_All my underdogs, we will never be never be!_

_Anything but loud_

_And nitty gritty dirty little freaks_

_Won't you come on! and come on! and_

_Raise your glass_

_Just come on and come and_

_Raise your glass_

_Won't you come on! and come on! and_

_Raise your glass_

_For me_

_Just come on and come and_

_Raise your glass...for me_

Dave stopped the disco-ball and brought up the lights onstage. Rachel stepped forward, the rest of the gleeks congregating around her.

"My name is Rachel Berry," she said. "My friends and I are the ones who made the posters you've seen around. They've been taken down, now, but that fact remains that bullying and cruelty are still too common in these halls. That's why at the next school council meeting, my dads will be putting forward a motion that McKinley adopt an official, enforceable, zero-tolerance anti-bullying policy. There will be information available next week. I hope you'll take a look. Talk about it with your parents. And talk about it with your friends. Because regardless of what the adults decide, WE ARE the school. And we need to be kinder with each other... Earlier this week, a student here - one of US - felt so marginalized, abused and alone that they wanted to- to- to kill themselves. And that's just not right. So to that person, whoever you are, please know you are not alone. You are not invisible. WE care about you. And to everyone else. Please. Just be kind."

Dave put up the lights in the auditorium and watched briefly as serious-faced and crying students started streaming out. Then with a big sigh he pushed away from the board and spun in his chair, surprised to find the AV kid still sitting there, rocking back and forth, back and forth.

"Hey... Hey, you okay?"

Huge-eyed, the kid looked at him. "Y- you did this?"

"Well, yeah," Dave replied. "I mean, we all did."

"Why? I thought you were one of the..."

Dave really looked at the kid. Probably grade nine, short, skinny, pale and totally wrecked. Then he noticed the scab on his hand: a scratched I.M., deep and ugly. Oh my god, was this?... The kid must've noticed him looking because he quickly drew his hands into his sleeves.

"I'm gay," Dave said in a rush. Their eyes met, stunned. "I'm gay … too. And you- you're going to be okay."

On a sob, the kid launched himself at Dave, and Dave just hung on. Held him together while the kid cried and cried like he was dying. "You're going to be okay... You're going to be okay..."

Kurt burst into the room a moment later, shock and hurt all over his face at seeing Dave holding the smaller boy, until Dave mouthed the words 'it's him.'

* * *

Running through the halls, white noise roaring in his ears, it seemed to Kurt that the world moved in slow motion. There were students everywhere. In his way. Slowing him down. He found Ms. Pillsbury talking with Mr. Schue, and grabbed her by the arm. "We've got him. We've got him." Her big brown eyes widened even further, and she followed. No questions asked.

* * *

Leaving the boy and school counsellor in the AV room, Dave collapsed against the wall. Jesus Christ. What a day. What a week. It was all just … too much. Kurt collapsed against the wall next to him.

"You guys were great up there," Dave said eventually.

Kurt was silent a moment. "No, you were great. We may have been the ones singing, but that was all you... All of it. You're really something special, you know that?"

Dave frowned and looked at his feet.

"Don't be shy," Kurt chided gently. "I'm being serious. You came out to your parents less than a week ago, and now you're a hero. A gay superhero."

Dave chuffed a strangled laugh. "Then why do I feel like someone's knocked me out with kryptonite?"

"Because saving lives is hard work," Kurt said, taking out his phone.

"Who're you calling?"

"My dad," Kurt replied. "Just want to let him know that I'm taking you out to dinner, and that he doesn't have to worry."

"I'm not sure I'm up to..."

Kurt placed a hand on Dave's shoulder and looked up into his eyes. "Hey. Let me take care of you. An early dinner, then I'll get you home for a rest, okay? I don't think you've slept all week."

"Okay," Dave said. "But it's your turn to pay."

* * *

**Long chapter. Emotionally hung over, now.**

**Songs**** (re-read the story with the songs running, and I dare you not to cry)**

**Hurting me now (Sia Furler): listen also to her "It gets better" video on YouTube. Seriously, if anyone has an inside line to RIB or anyone on Glee, please tell them they have to get some Sia on the show! She's a genius. 'Clap your hands' or 'Soon we'll be found' would be great, and her duet with Beck ('You're the one that I want') is crazyweirdawesome.**

**Don't give up (Peter Gabriel & Kate Bush version): the fragility of Kate's voice is heart-wrenching.**

**Raise your glass (Pink): anthem if every there was one.**

**On a personal note (just go with me here), we had a 'sex talk' assembly one year at my highschool. 'Sex with Sue' (radio-friendly Dr. Ruth type therapist) came and presented and answered anonymously written questions. Someone had written 'I think I'm gay. Should I come out to my friends? I'm afraid of losing them.' And from stage, she told this scared kid, who'd been brave enough to ask the question mind you, 'don't do it. Don't come out in highschool. Students can be cruel.' I remember feeling like I'd been slapped in the face. I wanted to jump up and shout 'bullshit! I'm a student here. I am 15 years old and I have no idea if I'm gay or straight, and my friends don't care! There are lots of people here who would still like you for just being you!' In my imagination, waves of students would've stood up in solidarity, ringing in a new era of tolerance and love. Of course, I didn't do it. Too scared, and then the moment passed. There were 3 suicides in my highschool in the 5 years I was there. I know 2 of those kids were gay. To this day, 19 years later, I regret not having stood up and said something when I had the chance.**

**So. Sorry for the melodrama. But not really.**

**Reviews much appreciated. Still not done. Just tired.**


	14. Read my lips

"Well, you guys clearly deserved the win," Blaine said as he and Kurt navigated to their regular table at the Bean, coffee and nibbles in hand. "I mean, I have never seen an entire panel of judges deliver a standing ovation while sobbing."

"A couple of them were smiling..." Kurt protested.

"While sobbing. Convulsively."

Kurt hid a smile as he took a sip of his latte. Because, really, it wouldn't do to gloat, even though after all the drama that preceded regionals, winning so decisively had been sweet indeed. "And did we make you cry?" he asked archly.

Blaine narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips before replying, "No. I contained myself... For the sake of my eyeliner."

"Speaking of which... How on earth did you convince council to go with a Duran Duran medley for regionals?"

"Well..." Blaine began, dipping his biscotti before taking a bite. "I just pointed out that having lost your voice, we'd be smart to at least exploit your talent by using one of your ideas. It totally would have worked, too, if you hadn't come up with a better idea."

"Wasn't my idea."

"Rachel?" Blaine gave his a skeptical look. "I would've thought she'd at least hog a solo."

"Nope," Kurt insisted. "Dave."

"Dave...?"

"Karofsky. The guy whose date you crashed?" Kurt took a sip of his latte, then cradled the cup in both hands. "He came up with the concept, the set list, helped with the arrangements..."

Blaine still didn't look convinced. "Fine. Don't believe me. But I'm telling you," Kurt said with a secretive little smile. "Dave is going help us win at nationals. Especially once I convince him to join glee and sing."

"Hold up. The neanderthal can sing?"

"Don't call him that!" Kurt's protested. "He's actually really … great. A little quiet. Bit of a computer geek..."

Blaine frowned at the dreamy expression on Kurt's face. He was used to being on the receiving end of that particular smile. It felt weird seeing it directed it at someone else, even if the other guy wasn't here.

"So. He sings."

"Mm-hm. Baritone. Smooth as butter. AND he's totally into music. Mostly indie and foreign pop from what I can tell so far. But- no. He found that Peter Gabriel song, so that's '80s too. Hrm. I'll have to ask about that... What?"

Blaine continued to frown as he picked at the crumbs on his plate, "Guess I'm just having a hard time taking this in... I mean, Kurt! He's a wannabe closet case! You were terrified of him. You said he made your life hell."

"I haven't forgotten," Kurt replied softly. "And you helped me through that. Courage, remember? But, well, I guess now that I'm getting to know him, I can imagine what he must've been feeling back then. And I think I could've handled things differently."

"Wow. That sounds very … grown up."

"Well, you know me: incredibly poised and wise beyond my years," Kurt struck a pose, attempting to inject some levity in this suddenly too-serious conversion.

Blaine shook his head and smiled. "God, Kurt, I have missed you."

"Hey, I'm still here. And you are still my BGF. Best gay friend. That's not going to change."

"Friend," Blaine repeated. "Right... I just … I worry about you. You deserve the best. Someone who's out and proud and knows how amazing you are."

"You don't need to worry," Kurt said. "I'm being smart this time. Promise."

"Not so smart you can see what's right in front of you," Blaine said slowly, head bent, watching as he extended his arm to trace fingers over the back of Kurt's hand.

"What...?"

"Give me another chance?" Blaine asked, looking searchingly into Kurt's eyes. "I know I said just friends, but I miss you. I miss that look in your eye. Just give me a chance to-" He leaned forward suddenly, sealing his lips firmly to Kurt's.

When he sat back, Kurt was looking at him with confusion, and maybe a flicker of … anger?

"What was that?"

"I'm sorry," Blaine said on a nervous smile. "Coffee breath?" He raised a hand self-consciously to his lips.

"No." He cocked his head and decided that Blaine looked like nothing so much as a really cute puppy who was counting on his appeal to get him out of trouble for having peed on the rug. "No," Kurt repeated. "That tasted like sour grapes to me."

* * *

"...I'm finally really, truly okay with being just friends, and he has to go and KISS me!" Kurt fumed. Mercedes watched as he stabbed at his salad viciously.

"You sure he meant to kiss you on the lips?" She asked. "It wasn't a kiss on the cheek gone wrong?"

"No," Kurt insisted. "It wasn't a- a misfire. He kissed me on the lips! Hard! … What is it?" he snapped at the person he could feel suddenly standing at his shoulder. He swung his head around. It was Dave. Holding his a tray and looking stunned.

"Uh, you told me to meet you guys here for lunch," he said. "No more self-imposed exile?"

"Right," Kurt said. "Well? Sit!"

But Dave was shaking his head now and backing away. "Thanks, but if you just wanted to tell me that you and prep school boy are together now. Well, now I know."

"Oh for god's sake," Kurt rolled his eyes. "I didn't ENOY it, you idiot. Sit down!"

Dave shot a glance at Mercedes. She offered him a sympathetic shrug that somehow managed to say, 'he's crazy, but what can you do?' Dave sat down. "So. He kissed you, and you didn't enjoy it. He didn't hurt you did he?"

"No. But he did help me reach a kind of … epiphany." Kurt wiped his lips meticulously and folded his napkin away before continuing. "Since that was the second completely unsolicited kiss that's been forced on me, I've had to come to the conclusion that in addition to being outrageously talented and fashion-forward, I am … desirable."

Mercedes's eyes went round. Dave's eyebrows threatened to hit his hairline. They didn't dare look at each other.

"Fine. Laugh," Kurt said, chin up. "But you have BOTH wanted me. So let me put you on notice. See these lips? The next time they're kissed, it's going to be consentual and earned and romantic! Got it? So YOU," he poked a finger at Dave, "don't even THINK of trying anything funny or I'll, I'll-"

"Crush my nuts?" Dave suggested with a little smile. Man, Kurt in a snit was pretty entertaining … and damn hot.

Kurt narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Would you enjoy that?"

"Uh, no."

"Excellent. Then I will crush (poke) your (poke) nuts (poke)." With one final nod, Kurt pushed back his chair, picked up his tray and stalked away.

An amused smile graced Dave's face as he watched Kurt's retreat, admiring the indignant swing to his hips...

"You seriously wanna tap that?" a familiar voice asked.

Suddenly wary, Dave looked up to see Azimio, alone, no other jocks around. He lifted his chin. "I wouldn't put it quite like that ... but yeah."

Azimio face screwed up with confusion. "Why the hell didn't you tell me, bro?"

Mercedes snorted, "The way you talk? Boy, you had a gutter mouth in the sandbox. Fairy this and fag that. Why should he tell you?"

Dave shot a grateful look to his unexpected ally.

"'Cause we were best friends. Man, those were just words..."

"Naw, they were me," Dave said.

"Then why'd you say 'em too?"

"Didn't want it to be me, man," Dave admitted, throat tight.

Azimio looked at him hard, then nodded, shot a look at Mercedes, and walked away. Dave took a deep breath.

"Hey," Mercedes said gently. "Hey, don't worry about him. You've got more important things to figure out."

"Like?"

"Like consentual, earned and romantic..."


	15. Three divas

"David Karofsky!"

Dave winced and hunched his head down. No luck. "Dave!" the strident voice repeated, accompanied by the tap-tap-tap of rapidly approaching little steps. A frighteningly strong little arm looped through his. No escape now.

"Berry," he acknowledged.

"Let me dispense with the preliminaries," Rachel said briskly as they walked toward the school. "As you may know, we creamed the competition at regionals. Now, much as I hate to admit it, although our choreography was beautiful and our vocals vastly superior, it was the narrative arc of the song selection that put us over the top. And since the set list was mostly your doing, YOU are going to have to start attending practice to help with nationals."

"Whoa," Dave protested. "That was kinda a one-time deal. Who said anything about me joining full-time?"

"Kurt," Rachel replied. "He said your voice is sex. Baritone. We don't have any baritones. If we're going to take New Directions to a new level, we need a new voice. Richer harmonies. A fresh perspective. And lest you forget, you are an official hemi-gleek, and that is NOT an honorary title: there are responsibilities… Ah, there they are. Do you have it?"

Dave looked up warily as Kurt and Mercedes joined them. Kurt appeared to be in a very good mood; he looped his arm through Dave's free one. Dave swallowed.

"Yep," Kurt said. "Mercedes?" He turned his body toward Dave's with a smile as Mercedes rifled through the outer pocket of his messenger bag.

"Here it is!" she said, victoriously holding up a scribbled piece of paper.

"Uh, here's what?" Dave asked.

"The official hemi-gleek charter," Kurt replied. "I wrote it myself. It's signed by everyone, so I THINK that makes it legally binding."

They came to a halt outside the school doors. Groups of other students walked around them, some shooting them irritated looks for blocking one of the doors, since a clutch of jocks were doing the same at the other side of the entrance. Dave disentangled his arms and took the paper, scanning it briefly. He looked up to find all three of them looking back expectantly.

"You guys serious?"

"Yes. You're in whether you like it or not. So don't even think of skipping tonight," Rachel insisted. "Or we'll hunt you down…" Mercedes added. "Like a dog," Kurt smiled cheerfully. Then, apparently having decided their job was done, they turned, linked arms and headed in, leaving a bewildered and strangely touched Dave. He looked down at the 'charter' again.

Kurt's loopy script basically specified that, as an officially hemi-gleek, Dave was not required to audition. Otherwise, he was a member just like everyone else. Him. David Karofsky. In glee club. And given the collection of signatures on the page, everyone wanted him there. Even Hudson. Who'd have thought?

* * *

"Think he'll show?" Mercedes asked.

"He'd better," Rachel said grimly.

"Never fear, ladies," Kurt said blithely. "He just received the full-on, triple-diva treatment combined with the unanimous endorsement of the entire glee club. Not only will he show, he WANTS to."

"Hey, wait up."

The trio came to a halt as Azimio branched away from his gang of jocks. "What was that? Outside?"

"Dave's joining glee," Rachel said defiantly, half expecting a slushy in the face.

"Seriously?"

Kurt sneered at the skepticism in the other boy's voice. Some best friend if he didn't even know how much Dave loved music…

"Brother's crazy talented," Mercedes said, arms crossed, daring a challenge.

"He's going to help us win nationals," Rachel added. "In New York."

"Okay, okay," Azimio raised his hands in surrender.

"You're not going to give him a hard time about this, are you?" Kurt narrowed his eyes dangerously. Azimio was too slow to reply. "I mean it," Kurt repeated. "No slushies, no teasing, no anything. Bad enough you outed your best friend, you will NOT keep him from making new ones, got it?" Mercedes rolled her neck and squinted her eyes too. Fierce. Azimio reluctantly nodded before walking away.

"Soooo… new best friend?" Mercedes asked.

Kurt shrugged. "Why not? New something, anyway…"

"I guess friend works," she admitted before getting a sly look in her eyes. "You DID say no funny stuff. We'll just have to hope the boy's gonna be able to keep his hands off your incredibly desirable, sexy self…"

"Well, maybe not best FRIEND…" Kurt admitted. Mercedes started laughing, which started the other two off.

"Oh my gosh, that was great!" Rachel said, wiping her eyes. "Dave's in, we didn't get slushied and Kurt's a stud. Why have we never stood up to them together like that before?"

"I don't care, but I like it!" said Mercedes.

"You know what this means," Rachel added with a grin. "Three divas. United. Can never be defeated!" And, laughing and chanting, they headed off to class. "Three divas. United. Can never be defeated!"


	16. Show up

"Dave's bailing on lunch," Mercedes announced, sitting opposite Kurt at the gleek table in the caf.

"He'll show at practice," Kurt replied calmly.

"Dunno. I've been watching him today, and he looks squirrelly," she said. "You ever notice how he puts his hands in his pockets when he's uncomfortable? … They been there all morning."

"So he's nervous, he'll show," Kurt repeated with a frown. He's noticed that particular quirk too. And for all that the glee guys were friendly with him, Dave wasn't exactly buddy-buddy with them. He was a satellite in orbit of their in-group. Frequently nearby but never expressly included, except by Kurt. Was he doubting his welcome?

"He'd better," Rachel said. "We need his voice. And I for one want to see how we sound together."

"Stand in line, sister," Artie protested. "A smooth as butter baritone to my smooth as butter tenor? If he can do runs, I get dibs."

"All I'm saying is the boy looks like he's gonna run," Mercedes said.

"He'll SHOW," insisted Kurt. "I'm sure of it. In fact, I'll bet you a week's worth of tater tots he'll be there. I lose, I eat them. You lose, you don't."

"You're on."

* * *

"So here's the deal," Kurt said. "If you don't come to practice, I will have to eat tater tots all week. And I don't think I need to tell you that that will play havoc with my figure and complexion..."

It was just after last bell. Kurt had been trying to catch a glimpse of Dave all afternoon, but their schedules just weren't in sync today. So here they were in a near empty hallway, mere minutes from losing a bet that would subject Kurt to - horror! - carb-loading for days on end.

Dave shut his locker and turned to face him. "What're you talking about?"

"Glee. Now. You. Full member. Nationals."

"I. Know," Dave replied slowly, a perplexed look on his face. "What does that have to do with tater tots?"

"Oh... Um, someone bet me that you'd bail."

"And you bet on me?" Dave asked with a half smile. Kurt noticed it looked very good on him.

"Of- of course," he stammered.

"Okay then. Let's win your bet." Dave started off to the choir room. Momentarily stunned, it took Kurt a moment to shake it off and catch up, and loop his arm through the other boy's.

"Lunchtime?" Kurt asked.

"Homework," Dave replied. "Wasn't sure how late glee would go."

"Dave?" Kurt asked again.

"Yes?"

"Are you by any chance intelligent?"

Dave was still chuckling as they entered the choir room. He self-consciously reclaimed his arm, but allowed Kurt to direct him to a seat at the end of the row, next to him. The other gleeks didn't so much as bat an eye. A few smiled at him. So far so good. Maybe Kurt hadn't forged all those signatures after all...

"Guys, you're cutting it close. Welcome, Dave... Okay. Settle down, settle down. Let's talk nationals," Mr. Shuester said. "First off, I spent part of the weekend going over tape from regionals. You guys were impressive." He held up his hand to quell the 'aw yeahs' in the room. "AND I think you learned some valuable lessons, as a group, that we should keep in mind as we plan the next step. Anyone care to take a stab at it? What do I mean?"

Rachel's hand shot up. "Narrative arc," she bubbled without waiting to be acknowledged. "We've got to tell a story by choosing thematically linked songs. I've been thinking about this nonstop since our win, and although I hesitate to brag, I've come up with some themes that I think will reach deep down into the visceral, collective psyche of the audience and draw them together in a communion of healing and…"

"Thank you, Rachel. Yes. Telling a story throughout the set rather than singing separate, independent songs. It's powerful, I agree. But what else? … Come on … Anyone?"

Dave looked around. No one apart from Rachel seemed to be paying much attention to the teacher.

"Fine," Schue sighed. He walked over to the piano, shared a look with Brad, then slammed his hands discordantly onto the keys a few times. "Team work!" He shouted. "Team work. You guys, we have so much talent in this room. And the way you divided the lyrics for regionals capitalized on each of your strengths. The result was golden … and an opportunity for each of you to shine. Which is WHY I'm going to ask you all to come up with set lists for nationals. Three songs…" He waved down the murmurs in the class. "Three songs. One that you would like to sing. One that you think would suit someone else's voice. One for the group."

Dave nodded. Made sense. Everyone else seemed to agree. Kurt was already lost in thought, a small smile on his lips, power ballads no doubt playing through his head. Dave admired the view for a moment, before Finn caught him looking and he whipped his gaze back to the front of the room.

"What about a theme?" Dave asked. "You know, the, uh, narrative arc?"

Rachel perked right up, but again, Schue's hands went up. "Love," he said.

Huh. Well, that got mixed reactions.

"Uh, no offense Mr. Schue, but isn't that a little…" Finn started.

"Trite?" Quinn finished, unimpressed.

"They're right," Rachel agreed. "I mean, I admire the bold simplicity of your choice, and there is obviously an enormous catalog of songs from which to choose, but…"

"Everything's been done before," said Artie.

Mr. Schuester sighed. "Not true, and look. Here's the deal. After your performance to the school, Emma and Figgins got a lot of calls from angry parents. NOT about the message," he clarified. "But, apparently a lot of students were really upset…"

"That was the point," Kurt said. "The whole situation was totally upset-worthy! Our performance got people crying and talking and thinking because it was necessary!"

"Our nationals set could only benefit from taking a similarly cathartic approach," Rachel volunteered. "We need to find a theme that touches on another deep, cultural psychic wound..."

"No more psychic wounds!" Mr. Schuester was implacable. "Emma's got enough on her plate without adding to it by upsetting more students. The theme is love, and that's final. And not unrequited, jilted or cheating love. Our set for nationals is going to be happy, got it? Searching for love, finding it, wooing it, keeping it. True, happily-ever-after, not-just-sex LOVE."

"Does Little Shop of Horrors have any 'I done stole my girl back from that hot dentist' songs?" Santana asked no one in particular.

"Aw man," Puck moaned. "This is gonna SUCK."

"Can I just go on record to say that I really, really don't want to do a full Celine set?" Artie said.

"Va-ni-llaaaaa," Mercedes sang. "C'mon, we got Whitney, Aretha..."

"Moulin Rouge, Phantom of the Opera..." added Kurt.

Dave snorted. "They're SAD, Hummel. Try Nat King Cole, Michael Buble, Sinatra..."

Several guys in the room started nodding.

"Jason Mraz," said Sam.

"Aerosmith," nodded Puck.

"Nickelback!" said Finn with a grin.

"Ugh!" Kurt pulled a disgusted face. 'What?' Finn shrugged. "If a penis could tell a fart joke, THAT is what it would sound like," Kurt replied with a curl of his lip.

"Guys! C'mon!" Mr. Schuester yelled over the argument that Kurt's comment prompted. "This is not guys versus girls again!"

"Why not?" Rachel asked, arms crossed. "Because you know the ladies of song would wipe the floor with your stupid, love-lorn, male butts?"

"Fine!" Schue replied, exasperated. "If you want to have a side-bet going, that's fine. But don't forget the main point of the assignment. I want set lists from each of you by the end of the week. Take this seriously, guys, 'cause I'm going to be picking the songs for nationals from your lists."

"Fine. So is it on?" Rachel asked Finn.

"Yeah," he said, nodding. "Yeah. Two out of three wins."

"So which team are you on?" Kurt leaned over to ask Dave as conversation swirled around them.

"I thought we were clear on that," Dave replied with a half-smile.

"Ooohh, gay joke. You're making big strides!"

Dave's smile graduated into a full grin; teasing Kurt was even better than bickering. "Think I'll stick with the crooners on this one."

"Okay, but you should know you're going to be kissing my Buble butt by the time this competition is over, 'cause the ladies are going to win."

"Like I'd mind..." Dave murmured. Kurt's cheeks blushed bright red. Yep, glee club was going to be all kinds of fun.


	17. Handle with care

"Sure your dad'll be okay with me being here?" Dave asked Kurt as they entered the Hummel household, hauling Artie's chair together. Ahead, Finn and Mike carried their friend between them. Puck and Sam cleared the way as they all headed to the living room.

"It'll be fine," Kurt replied as they struggled to find space for the chair. "Besides, he and Carole have some kind of mid-week parents' night out date tonight. They won't be home 'till this is wrapped up."

'This' was ostensibly the glee boys' strategy meeting, but as Kurt watched Finn rapidly set up the PS3, he suspected the only strategizing that was going to take place tonight would be virtual and military in nature. Whatever. As far as Kurt was concerned, the boys were going to lose big. He was just glad Finn had agreed to invite Dave as a member of the team.

"Hey, make yourself comfortable." Dave looked so ill at ease. "I'm just going to pop the pizzas in and grab some drinks, okay?" When Kurt returned to the living room, it was to find the guys sprawled all over the place, deeply and loudly immersed in some kind of graphic war game. He set the tray of drinks down on the coffee table and squeezed between Dave and Sam on the couch.

"Thought you were on the girls' team," Sam said, jostling Kurt as he blew something up onscreen.

"As far as the set list goes, I am. However, tonight I am just one of the guys, and a neutral party. Switzerland," Kurt cocked his head. Ew. Were those chunks of brain flying on the screen? Dave chuckled at Kurt's sound of disgust as ribbons of intestine joined the carnage.

"So, um, you guys have any ideas for nationals?" Dave asked.

"Well," started Artie, still focusing on the game. "We figured if we each submitted our own solos, but agreed on the other two songs, Schue'd have to go with our choices. Majority vote."

"Huh. Any song ideas?"

Artie opened his mouth, but Puck interrupted. "Not a word, Wheels. I bet ladyboy would love to stick us with a Celine set... We'll tell you later, Karofsky."

"Ladyboy?" Kurt asked.

"Yeah, 'cause you're siding with the ladies," Puck replied. "What'd'ya think I mean- aw, fuck!"

"Damn, sorry 'bout that," Dave drawled with a little smile as the other boy's shooter exploded in bloody red chunks. "Friendly fire's a bitch." Puck shot him a skeptical look, but contented himself with grabbing a drink and heading for the kitchen to check on the pizza.

Puck's return with the food prompted a cease-fire as everyone dug in. Kurt was fascinated. He'd never been included in any of these shoot-em-up guy-fests before. In all fairness, he'd never been interested. Looking around as he ate, he was surprised to note how physical the guys were with each other. I mean, sure, it was a tight squeeze with all of them in the living room, but no one seemed particularly concerned with carving out their own territory, as Kurt might have expected. Mike was leaning against Artie's legs; Finn and Puck were joking about something and kept shoving each other; and Dave and Sam seemed not to mind being shoehorned with him on the couch.

"You want a turn?" Dave asked as the game started up again, offering Kurt his controller.

"Don't bother," Finn called. "He thinks gaming's a waste of time."

"Not even," Puck disagreed. "I say he's just embarrassed he never learned to play."

Kurt glared at them.

"Hey, it's not that hard," Dave said, nudging him with his shoulder. "Here, sit in front of me. I'll teach you."

Kurt glanced over to find Dave's face very sincere and very close. It really was tight on the couch. Cheeks feeling warm, Kurt slid down to the floor, where Dave made room for him between his legs. Kurt gingerly settled in and tried not to startle when Dave leaned over, arms around him with the remote.

"Just watch my hands," Dave said, voice tickling the back of Kurt's neck. "I'll say what I'm doing, and you figure out which buttons do what. Then you can give it a try."

Not trusting his voice, Kurt nodded. In the end, it took Sam, Artie and Mike all laying down cover fire and Dave manning half the control buttons to keep Kurt alive. Puck made a lot of noise about how terrible their final score was, but everyone was smiling. Kurt looked up to grin his thanks at Dave upside down just as Burt and Carole walked in.

"Whoa," laughed Carole, taking in the scene. "Full house."

But Burt's gaze had gone immediately to where his son appeared to be cuddled between the legs of his former bully. The boy's eyes went wide with what Burt sincerely hoped was fear. "You. Kitchen. Now."

* * *

"Dad, please, leave it," Kurt begged, following his dad and Dave into the kitchen. "Everything's fine. He was just here doing homework."

"Didn't look like that to me," Burt replied with a hard look at Dave. The boy swallowed and nodded, looking at the floor.

Unhappy to see Dave so cowed after finally, finally having relaxed with the other guys out in the living room, Kurt set a hand on his arm. "Dave, come on. This is silly. You don't have to do this."

"Yeah, I do," Dave replied in a low voice. "S'okay."

Kurt reluctantly let Carole draw him out of the kitchen, but planted himself once they were out of view. On seeing the set look on his face, she relented. "Ssshh," she said with a worried look before heading upstairs. Kurt settled himself in to eavesdrop.

"... guess I'm confused," Burt was saying. "First I hear 'bout you, you're threatening my son. Then Finn tells me you were, what? Outed at school? Then you're dating, but you're just friends, and now I come home to find him in your lap. So, guess what I want to know is, what the hell's going on?"

"We're friends," Dave said finally. "Becoming friends... Kurt's been... nicer than I deserve. He's amazing."

"What? So you like him?" Burt said. "'Cause I gotta say, the thought of... Doesn't exactly thrill me. My kid deserves better."

"You think I don't know that? Think I don't know he should hate me for what I've done? … But he doesn't. He says he doesn't, so I'm just trying to BE better, you know? … He's given me this second chance I don't deserve, so I'm just trying really damn hard, 'cause I don't ever want to hurt him again."

"I see," Burt said after a moment. And looking at this big, beaten, serious boy, with a sinking feeling, Burt really did see. "Your dad told me you're, uh, seeing someone? A therapist?"

"Yeah."

"Still doin' that?"

"Yeah."

"Okay. Well. That's good, I guess. Just- " Burt heaved a sigh. "Look, we're done here. Just don't hurt him. In ANY way, got it? … And you might want to tell my son I wasn't too hard on you."

That wasn't necessary, of course. On leaving the kitchen to join his wife, Burt spotted Kurt outside the kitchen door. Kurt nodded at his dad, then pushed off the wall to join Dave. The other boy was leaning against the fridge, hands in his pockets, head back with his eyes closed.

"You okay?" Kurt asked softly.

Dave tried and failed to laugh. "In one piece."

"My dad, he's just... protective. He loves me."

"Of course he does," Dave replied, finally opening his eyes to look at Kurt. God, he felt wrung out. Seeing that, Kurt stepped forward and then again, until he was close enough to slip his arms around Dave's waist in a hug.

"I don't hate you," he said quietly.

Dave returned the hug, wrapping his arms around Kurt's waist and back. "Thanks."

Then they stopped talking. They just stood there, drawing strength and comfort from the embrace. Feeling each other breathe. Until Finn popped his head in and Dave jerked his arms away like he'd been burned.

"Oh... Man - sorry. Should I? … Uh, everyone's leaving. Do you guys want a minute?"

"No," Dave said quickly as he slipped out of the kitchen. "No, we're good. Thanks for having me. I'll, uh, see you tomorrow." And then he was gone.

* * *

Mr. Schuester sighed as he scanned the last of the set lists. He waited until Mike and Artie settled in before leaning against the piano with his arms crossed. "Okay, so there are SOME good ideas in these set lists, but I think several of you missed the point."

Dave's heart sank. He'd fled the Hummel house before the guys shared their ideas, and he knew he hadn't exactly done what the teacher had asked. Okay: he'd gone completely overboard... Lists of solos he thought would suit each gleek, cross-referenced with group songs and his own solos. Counting every permutation, he's probably submitted over a dozen complete set lists. Stupid, stupid, stupid. He dialled back in to the conversation when he heard his name.

"Everyone except Dave, actually," Schue was saying. "Because as flattered as I am sure Rachel would be to know how many of you chose solos for her, I HOPE you were joking about Meatloaf..."

Several guys in the class snickered, and Rachel, who had been trying to look modest and pleased, glared at them.

"Great," Schue clapped. "Since it's so amusing: new assignment. I want each of you to pick a love song for every member of glee club. It's got to be uplifting, it's got to suit their voice and you've got to tell me why... Dave's exempt. He's already put more work into this than the rest of you combined."

The grumbling erupted immediately.

"Seriously, dude?" Puck demanded. "You're a keener?"

"I'm going to have to cut back on my gaming, this is going to take a while," said Artie, looking worried.

"Mr. Schue," Quinn called. "How are we supposed to pick a song for Karofsky when we don't even know what he sounds like?"

Dave, sinking in his chair, wished he could disappear.

"Good point," Mr. Schuester agreed.

Kurt, who had been irritated at the prospect of more work eating into his weekend shopping plans, didn't like the sudden tenor of the conversation. Pulling himself from his own concerns, he noted that Dave looked hunted, and that was not good. Kurt felt his protective instincts flare up. Still, Quinn DID have a point. Best try and control the situation.

"No time like the present," Kurt said.

'What are you DOING?' Dave glared at him silently.

"Don't worry, you won't be alone," Kurt said quietly before moving toward the piano to sort through some sheet music. "Guys, come on. All the boys, down here. Let's do this." He handed Brad his selection.

"So NOW you're one of the guys?" Sam teased.

Kurt raised a haughty eyebrow. "I can be whatever I want to be. And right now," he slipped his shades on. "I want to be Roy Orbison. Dave, you're George Harrison."

Mr. Schue, who'd peeked at the song, passed Puck and Sam their guitars with a grin: "Dylan, Tom," he said.

"Who are we?" asked Mike, rolling Artie forward.

"Jeff Lyne," Schue replied.

"And, uh, I guess I'm be Ringo?" Finn said, settling behind the drums.

Kurt rolled his eyes. Noticing Dave nervously glancing at their all-girl audience, he put a reassuring hand on his arm. "Don't worry about them. Just focus on me and sing, okay? You're going to be great ... Hit it."

Brad started up, followed by the boys. Dave took a deep breath and started singing:

**_[Dave]_**

_Been beat up and battered 'round_

_Been sent up, and I've been shot down_

_You're the best thing that I've ever found_

_Handle me with care_

_Reputations changeable_

_Situations tolerable_

_Baby, you're adorable_

_Handle me with care_

**_[Kurt]_**

_I'm so tired of being lonely_

_I still have some love to give_

_Won't you show me that you really care_

**_[Puck, Sam, ft. everyone]_**

_Everybody's got somebody to lean on_

_Put your body next to mine, and dream on_

**_[Dave]_**

_I've been fobbed off, and I've been fooled_

_I've been robbed and ridiculed_

_In day care centers and night schools_

_Handle me with care_

_Been stuck in airports, terrorized_

_Sent to meetings, hypnotized_

_Overexposed, commercialized_

_Handle me with care_

**_[Kurt]_**

_I'm so tired of being lonely_

_I still have some love to give_

_Won't you show me that you really care_

**_[Puck, Sam, ft. everyone]_**

_Everybody's got somebody to lean on_

_Put your body next to mine, and dream on_

**_[Dave, ft. Kurt]_**

_I've been uptight and made a mess_

_But I'll clean it up myself, I guess_

_Oh, the sweet smell of success_

_Handle me with care_

"Whoo!" Schue hooted as the chords faded, which got the girls going. And they were right: Dave had sounded great. They all had. Behind them, the other guys were exchanging 'right ons' and high fives. Kurt grinned at Dave, who looked relieved.

"Told you," Kurt said, happily bouncing on the balls of his feet.

"Yeah," Dave admitted, moving forward. Kurt, expecting a hug, let out an 'oh' as Dave clasped one of his hands, the other arm going around his shoulders to draw him into a half-hug, which Kurt returned awkwardly. Dave surreptitiously stroked his thumb along the back of Kurt's neck, leaning back with a raised brow when he felt the other boy shiver.

"Sweet spot," Kurt whispered, surprised.

Dave grinned. "Yeah?" He patted Kurt's back a couple times, and then drew him in close to do it again. "Good to know."

* * *

**Song: "Handle with care" by the Traveling Wilburys. Love the sentiment of this song!**


	18. Monkey lovin'

"They're like gorillas."

"Hmmm?" Mercedes hummed.

"Boys."

"Kurt, I thought we were here to find the perfect shirt to go with your new suit. You telling me we haven't found anything all morning 'cause you've been cruising?"

"Noooo... We haven't found anything because we live in a hick town and this is a hick mall."

"Bitch, please."

"FINE... I've been distracted. But have you noticed how many guys there are here today?" Kurt waved his hand to encompass the food court, where they stood in line, waiting to refuel. Mercedes humoured him, and sure enough, he was right. A clutch of blue lettermans there. A bunch of red ones there. A gang of pale, basement-dwellers hunched over a laptop and fries. Kurt had been noticing boys all morning. More specifically, he had been noticing boys touching. Props. Weird handshakes. Half-hugs. Shoulder thumps. Butt slaps. Shoves and noogies. A whole lexicon of semi-aggressive behaviour that seemed to say: 'You're one of us, dude,' 'Good on 'ya,' 'Cool' and 'I like you.' Jock types seemed particularly handsy. Kurt had noted this before at school. He'd also observed that these days Dave was not included in the conversation. Azimio acknowledged him now, but that was as far as it went. Of course, Kurt had never been included in that particular, larger, male conversation. Ironically, because he was gay, he tended to only ever touched girls. Standing arm-in-arm, for example, as he was doing now.

"Look at that," Kurt continued. "All that grunting and thumping … it's simian. You know I even saw Artie eat a crumb out of Mike's hair the other night?"

"You mentioned... And that Finn and Puck are buddy/buddy again. And that you still think Sam might be gay," Mercedes teased. "Haven't mentioned anything about Dave, though..."

"Hmmm..."

"Don't give me that!" Mercedes shook his arm. "What's up? Something happen? You been all moony..."

"We're up," Kurt said brightly as they reached the head of the queue. Reprieve. He collected his thoughts while they both ordered, payed and navigated the crowd to an empty table. He guessed he had been moony. Feeling like one of the guys the other night had been … nice. They'd been comfortable around him. Sitting in Dave's embrace and hugging him later, though … that had been even nicer. Until Finn had gone and ruined it. The sad fact of the matter was that although Dave did seem to like touching Kurt, he was self-conscious about it. Embarrassed even. And that didn't bode well for any future, well, future.

"I've been thinking I need a plan," Kurt said abruptly.

"Ooohh no," Mercedes said. "This another spymaster idea? 'Cause that was dumb."

"No, not exactly. It's just... Despite the fact that I sucked at video-gaming, the guys were fine with me. Comfortable. Guess I just never noticed before how there's this whole guy world out there that I'm not a part of..."

"You mean straight guy world."

"I guess so... But the thing is... Well, despite being gay, it's like Dave's got straight brain."

Mercedes lifted an eyebrow, and Kurt warmed to his theme. This made sense...

"Straight brain. Like, it's okay to touch other guys if it's all rough and simian, but a hug or, or any touch that has honest emotion behind it is … gay. Not good."

"So there was some honest, emotional touching the other night?"

Kurt ignored her. "I've got to get him past that. And if guy world thinking is the problem, then changing the way guy world thinks is the solution."

Mercedes shook her head, and amused and confused look on her face. "Boy, what are you talking about?"

"Okay, so stage one, right? Infiltrate guy world. I need the guys to think of me as one of them. Then I can start changing things from the inside..."

"This IS starting to sound all spymaster..."

"More cultural anthropologist turned cultural revolutionary. Totally transparent. Just a little … subversive," Kurt disagreed. "Stage two is introducing affection into the guy world lexicon. Show them that it's okay to touch, well, like WE do. Like this," he said, reaching across the table to warmly press her hand.

"Oh wow," she said, gaze fixed over his shoulder. "And what's THAT?"

Kurt turned to look. A big, gorgeous black man was leaning across his table to plant a tender kiss on the lips of a smaller, white man. Kurt's breath caught in his throat as he watched the kiss linger.

"Stage three," he managed in a strangled whisper. "Endgame." And he was starting to realize he really wanted to get there with Dave. "So," Kurt said, clearing his throat. "What do you think?"

Reluctantly dragging her eyes away, Mercedes gave her friend a far-too-perceptive look. "I think this is all about you wanting monkey sex with Dave."

Kurt threw a crouton at her head.

* * *

"I need you to show me how to touch boys," Kurt declared.

Finn's eyes went comically wide before he spewed warm milk out his nose and scrambled back.

"Ew." Kurt reached from his perch at the foot of Finn's bed to pass him some tissues.

"Uh, I don't think that's a good... Why would you... Same equipment, right? … I mean, I know I have more experience, but it's been with, uh, girls. And, uh... I've heard the internet has lots of … stuff … that could, you know, show you-"

What? Kurt shook his head, confused for about two seconds until the reason for Finn's near-incoherent babbling occurred to him. "Ugh, not THAT kind of touching."

"Oh. Um. Okay. So, uh, what're you talking about?" asked Finn, relaxing a little.

"BOY touching," Kurt tried to clarify. "You know, like props? Back slapping? All those suspiciously homoerotic yet socially acceptable things jocks do to each other?"

"Right... Uh, can I ask why you wanna...?"

Kurt sat up a little straighter, legs crossed, hands on his knees, lips pursed in a moue of discontent. "It has been mentioned that I may be a little … swishy … in my physical mannerisms."

"Who said that?" Finn interrupted. "'Cause there is nothing wrong with your … whatevers. You're fine the way you are. Just- don't change."

"Relax, papa Hummel," Kurt said dryly. "I didn't say there was anything WRONG with the way I move. It's just that while it does allow me to share warm and affectionate relationships with my female friends, it has come to my attention that it also may … alienate … the guys." At Finn's look of guilty understanding, he forged on. "And I don't plan on changing. I just want to learn butch-touch. Think of it as teaching me a new language. Like French. Only not sexy."

Finn was still giving him a funny look, but at least he was nodding. "Okay. So … how do we do this?"

"Well," said Kurt, reaching for a piece of paper he'd placed on Finn's bedside table. "I've compiled a list of behaviours I've observed. You can start by explaining them to me, and then we rehearse."

"Uh, rehearse?"

"Finn, I'm good, but I'm not that good. If I am going to become fluent in bromance, we are going to have to practice."

Finn groaned, but Kurt was already moving on, "Item number one, the butt slap. What is up with that?"


	19. In touch

"Now remember, you have to touch Dave too."

"Dude, you gotta find another way of saying that," insisted Finn.

"You know what I mean," Kurt hissed as pushed their way through the front doors. "There he is. … Dave! Wait up!"

Dave turned around to watch Kurt bee-lining for him, stepbrother in tow. "Hey," he said, automatically meeting Kurt's extended hand [clasp] and letting himself be pulled into a half-hug. After a couple of hardy pats [thump, thump, and was that a subtle caress under the neck of his shirt?], Kurt released him.

"How was your weekend?" Kurt asked, looking very pleased with himself.

"Uh, fine," Dave replied, bemused. "Boring. You?"

"Good, good …Finn?"

"Oh, uh, yeah," Finn mumbled awkwardly. "So, um, thanks for sharing your playlist with us. It really saved my butt with this assignment."

Dave's brow furrowed. Why was Finn going out of his way to be nice? He'd only shared his playlist at Kurt's texted request. Nevertheless, he met Finn's extended fist in a dap greeting [bump]. "No problem. Want me to drop it off with Schue? I'm headed that way, and he wanted them first thing."

Slightly surprised at the offer, Finn fumbled a 'sure' before digging through the mess in his backpack and handing over a wrinkled print-out. "Fancy?" Dave asked.

"Mmm. No. That's okay. I'll come with," Kurt replied. He nodded a 'bye to Finn and set off for Mr. Schuester's office with Dave.

"Afraid I'd peek?" Aha. Dave was not imagining the sudden flush riding Kurt's cheekbones.

The boy sent him a sidelong glance. "Don't be silly."

"It's okay. Rachel already told me you like my voice. So what'd you saddle me with? 'I'm too sexy'? 'Love sex magic'? 'I want your-'"

"'Everything,'" Kurt said in a rush before his cheeks totally caught fire. Damn his fair complexion! "I mean, Michael Buble. 'Everything.'"

"Oh, wow. That's, like, one of my favourite songs," Dave admitted after a moment. He'd picked it for a solo, in fact. "Huh. Well, thanks. I was sure you'd pick something, you know, embarrassing or really, really girly … Wait, I thought you were siding with the ladies. For the side-bet?"

"Oh, I am," Kurt was quick to clarify. "Most of my song choices are by female artists. And I have every confidence that divas will carry the day. But, out of fairness, I did listen to lots of love songs this weekend. Picked apart lyrics. And you had some pretty interesting covers. I mean, stuff I never would have thought I'd like actually sounded-"

"Hey guys. Kurt, got your assignment?" Mr. Schuester interrupted. Kurt startled, so engrossed in conversation that he hadn't even noticed the teacher open his office door.

"Um, yeah," Kurt thrust out a teal folder he quickly retrieved from the outer pocket of his messenger bag.

"And, um, here's Hudson's." Dave handed over Finn's crumpled sheet.

Mr. Schuester looked puzzled for a moment, but shook it off, apparently deciding that it wasn't worth asking why Dave was in possession of Finn's homework. "Thanks. Listen, Dave. I wanted to have a word with you if I could."

"Oh. Um. I'll just … go, then," Kurt said, licking his lips nervously. Was Dave staring at his mouth? [Lick] Yup, Dave was staring at his mouth. "I'll, um, see you at lunch," Kurt said. He bit his lip to keep from grinning as he turned, promptly crashing into Azimio. "Sorry," he offered, absently extending his fist [bump] before swanning down the hall on a cloud of happy.

Azimio watched him go, confused. That was definitely Hummel flouncing away like some Disney princess. But since when did he dap fists? Apologize? Hell, say anything that wasn't bitchy, condescending or autocratic? Shaking his head, Azimio turned back to Dave. The music teacher was saying "...your set lists again. They're really amazing. I'm going to have a hard time giving other other kids' lists a fair shake. Guess I just wanted to say," he put his hand on Dave's arm [squeeze]. "I am so glad you joined. You have a great voice, Dave, and an even better ear. Your music selections and all the work you did for the regionals performance, well, you've challenged me. And whether they all know it or not, yet, you've done the same for the rest of the group. We are so much stronger for having you with us. So, thank you. And keep it up, okay?"

Dave looked stunned. Mute, he nodded, clasped the teacher's offered hand [shake] and stood there, at a loss after Schuester disappeared back in his office.

"Hey man."

"Oh. Hey. 'Sup?" Dave asked, still looking a bit dazed.

"Showin' the gleeks how it's done?" Azimio said as they started off to class together.

"Huh. Guess so," Dave replied.

"Good, good. … Gettin' some rap in there?"

"You really think they could handle it? I mean, Wheels is pretty dope and all, but..." Dave shot Zee a small smile. "Nope. You want rap, you're gonna hafta join up."

"Naw. Don't think so... Not that there's anything wrong with singin' and prancing around," he was quick to say. "But's'not my style."

Dave hadn't really expected a different answer, but still... "They're, uh. They're okay, you know? I mean, Berry's crazy, but the rest of them... They're cool." Azimio gave him a very skeptical look. "Why don't you have lunch with us?"

"Dunno, man. I'd love to hang, buuuut..." Azimio prevaricated. "Wanna sit somewhere else?"

Disappointed, Dave shook his head 'no,' "Can't. Cost someone a bet and now I owe them."

They walked silently the rest of the way to class. Before entering, though, Azimio stopped him.

"Fine," he relented. "I'll sit with y'all. But you gotta promise to come hang at my crib Friday after school, like we used to. … Miss you, man. We got some catching up to do. 'Sides, my mom's been givin' me shit ever since you stopped comin' 'round."

"Okay," Dave nodded, trying to be cool as he sealed the deal with clasped hands [grip].

"Aaawww... Ebony and ivory are back together!" Strando crooned mockingly as he shoved past them into the classroom.

Dave's high-flying mood suddenly plummeted, but Zee had it covered. "Damn straight," he said, guiding his friend into class with a reassuring hand on his shoulder [squeeze].

"Straight? I don't think so," came the jeering reply.

"Very punny. Seriously, man? That's just ignorant," Azimio said, stopping in front of the big blonde's desk. "'Sides, you really think he could get with this?" He proceeded to shake his butt in the other boy's face to some groovy, internal soundtrack, garnering cheers and whoops from the other students. Finally deciding he'd made his point, he high-fived Dave [slap] and they took their seats. Next to each other. Brothers again.

* * *

"Hey." Kurt smiled at the voice close behind him, even before a familiar hand clapped on his shoulder, fingers brushing the nape of his neck [shiver]. "Zee's joining us for lunch," Dave said quietly, leaning in. "Just wanted to, you know... warn you."

"Sure, that's great," Kurt managed before Dave headed back to where Azimio stood back in the line. "Hey - none of that. We had a deal."

Beside him, Mercedes grumbled and handed the tater tots back to the cafeteria lady. "You really think it's great? 'Bout Azimio?" she asked skeptically.

"They were best friends. Dave's been sad and lonely. Of course it's great. Besides, he knows he's got to behave or he'll get the diva treatment. And just to be sure ..." Kurt quickly paid for his salad and bopped over to intercept Finn and Puck entering the caf. Mercedes watched as she paid up, wincing at the barrage of bromance that constituted a proper, butch greeting [slap, thump, bump]. No damage done. Kurt swanned back, a serene smile on his face. "They're going to sit with us," he announced. "Help het up the table."

"Lucky me," she mumbled as they went to claim a place. Dave, Azimio, Finn and Puck joined them shortly, sitting after another barrage of greetings [slap, thump, bump].

"So..." Azimio said after they'd all began eating. "Dave tells me he's been helping your, uh, choir out." Dave shot him a look: Geez, make it sound like he'd been bragging!

"Uh, yeah," Finn replied.

"Been a real keener," added Puck. "'Least he shared his playlist."

"Wait, I only meant to share it with Kurt," Dave said.

"I only shared it with Finn," Kurt protested, hands up.

"Well..." Everyone looked at Finn, who clearly had forwarded the list to … all the guys?

Mercedes snorted. "Hive mind. Y'all are pathetic."

"What's this?" Zee asked, clearly confused.

"It's girls versus guys for the nationals set list," Kurt explained. "For picking the songs. Hey!" he added when out of the corner of his eye he spotted Dave sneaking some tater tots onto Mercedes' plate.

"You tryin' to butter me up?" she asked.

"Would it work?" Dave retaliated.

She gave it a second. "Pass me the ketchup."

"You!" They all jumped and turned in the direction of the shriek to see a furious, red-faced Rachel marching toward them with purpose, one finger still extended in accusation at … Dave?

"Berry..." Dave acknowledged cautiously.

"David. Karofsky." she spat. "This is YOUR doing."

"Uh..." she hadn't overheard about the boys collaborating, surely?

Hands on her hips, still tense with fury, Rachel kept going. "Don't act all innocent you- you usurper! Need I remind you that *I* am in charge of glee club? I inducted you. I can DEduct you!"

"Rachel..." Finn said warningly, but to no avail.

"Do you know where I was just now? Schuester's office. Handing in my glee assignment. Late. The first time I have EVER handed anything in late because I had to get it just right. Nationals are THAT important to me. And while I was in there, I just happened to notice in his top left-hand desk drawer under everyone else's assignments a partial set list. … He's chosen the group song already, David. AND several duets in addition to solos. … Well?"

Dave shook his head.

Rachel growled her frustration. "You've ruined everything! What did you do? Seduce every guy in glee to get your way?"

"Oh, hey now..." he objected.

"Because there is no way the others came up with some of those songs on their own."

"I shared my playlist, that's it," he admitted. "Not my original hand-in."

"How did you get into Schue's office desk, anyway?" asked Finn, perplexed. "Doesn't he keep it all locked up when he's not there?"

"Please," Rachel replied, not the least bit guilty. "A lock that opens with a twist of one stupid bobbypin cannot call itself a lock."

'True,' Kurt nodded silently, stupidly drawing her attention.

"Ooooh, you! I have nothing to say to you right now, Judas!"

"Babe, you're Jewish," Puck said. "Is that even an insult?"

Rachel growled. "Joke all you want. I have decided to rise above, as I usually do, by winning. And YOU are going to help me do it, David. Schuester's assigned us to a duet. So all I can say is your voice BETTER be sex. I better be PREGNANT with TWINS by the time we're done rehearsing. Friday night. My house."

Dave was speechless with horror, so Kurt jumped to the rescue.

"He can't."

"Oh? And why is that?"

"We have a date." "Movie night." "He's hangin' with me," said Kurt, Finn and Azimio, simultaneously.

Rachel's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Fine," she said in a saccharine voice. "Dave, you're coming home with me after school Friday. We are going to rehearse. You will stay for dinner. The rest of you will arrive at 7 o'clock. Sharp. We'll hang. Watch a movie. You can cuddle on the couch. Everyone's happy."

Unfamiliar with Rachel's dictates, Azimio muttered, "I'm not happy."

He regretted opening his mouth the moment her gimlet gaze landed on him, and in a moment, he wasn't the only one. "Can't have that," Rachel said with a tight smile. "Mercedes. You come too. Even out our numbers. Seven o'clock." And with that, she spun around and stalked away.

"Wait, what?" Zee sputtered as Mercedes groaned. "That doesn't even out the numbers."

"We're gay," Kurt reminded him, pointing to himself then Dave.

"And totally fucked," Dave added, dropping his head to the table. A duet with Berry: could it get any worse?

* * *

"Mercedes. Kurt." Mr. Schuester handed them each a sheet of paper as they entered. Making his way to the free seat next to Dave, Kurt noted that everyone was occupied studying their own sheet. "Okay, heads up people. Each of you now has in your possession a list of love songs that your fellow glee club members thought would suit you, along with comments on why they chose those songs. I've entered everything anonymously. The point isn't who picked what. I want you to focus on the music."

"I haven't even heard of half of these artists," Quinn protested, shaking her head. "I mean, The Weepies? And they've got a *happy* love song?"

"They're on my list too," said Tina.

"I know. A lot of the suggestions were new to me," Mr. Schue agreed. "Buuuut, I did some homework and listened to everything, and I've gotta say, guys, I don't know why we didn't do something like this sooner. There are some really, really great songs in here. So. I want you to listen to everything on your list. Prepare your favourite. Because some songs were suggested more than once, you'll find I may have marked you down for a duet or group performance. Any questions?"

"These comments," Santana drawled. "Are they for real? Or are they some kind of feel-good, bullshit teaching tool?"

"No bullshit," Schue insisted. "Santana, you have an amazing voice. More than one person here agrees with me. And while Rachel may have the voice most likely to make it on Broadway, your voice is the one most suited to pop-rock radio these days: Adele, Lady Gaga, Sia, Paloma Faith, Amy Winehouse, KT Tunstall, Pink. They are all incredibly popular, successful artists, and you have the chops to kill their songs."

"If you're done confining my prospects to Broadway," Rachel said, voice tight. "I'd like to discuss the fact that you've already chosen the group number."

Mr. Schuester sighed and rubbed his forehead. "Yes, Rachel. I have."

"That is so completely unfa-"

"It is totally fair," Schue insisted, conceding no ground. "That song was chosen by a majority of your fellow glee members..."

"You mean the GUYS."

"Yes, the guys were unanimous," he conceded. "But they weren't the only ones to choose it for the group."

"It's *Nickelback*! Kurt said it before he sided with his anatomy, they sound like farting penises!" Rachel protested.

Kurt, who had been sinking in his chair in an effort to avoid being drawn into the argument, couldn't resist jumping to his own defense. "Yes, but WE don't sound like that. Dave has this cover by some girl, and it's actually really-"

"Ugh. DAVE." Rachel said with disgust.

"Yes, Dave." Kurt's ire was raised now. "You duet partner."

"Only becau-"

"Oh, give it a rest you pretentious little pygmy," Santana interrupted.

"Don't bully me," Rachel snapped.

"Please, calling you out on your repugnant personality is not bullying. It's necessary," Santana said. "Besides, I called that song for the group, too. Admittedly, I did it to piss off princess twink-toes, but still..."

'Princess twink-toes?' Kurt mouthed.

"Then you are BOTH turncoats," Rachel spat. "And you deserve each other. I hope you enjoy your duet together. I'm sure you'll get along famously."

Panicked, they both scanned down their respective sheets. Sure enough, Santana and Kurt were slated to sing together. Immediately, they both started protesting, but Schue didn't let them get far.

"Forget it," he snapped. "I gave you all a chance to provide input, and you did. You are free to choose your own solos from the list, but that is it. For the rest, you will learn Nickelback, and you WILL learn those assigned duets and group numbers. We have a great mix of talent in the room, and frankly it would be stupid to let personal prejudices get in the way of potential music magic. … I mean it, guys. Don't make the mistake of assuming that because I asked for input, glee club is a democracy. It is a benevolent dictatorship. And my goodwill has officially run out. So I suggest you all get in touch with your inner pride and- and professionalism, and just get on with it. Any questions?"

Chastened, nobody said a word.

* * *

**Songs listed so far, but not yet sung**

**"Everything" by Michael Buble**

**"Gotta be somebody" by Nickelback (whom I seriously dislike, but check out **.com/watch?v=NthP0EtxDV0**)**

**? by The Weepies for Quinn or Tina, 2 very sweet, underused voices. If curious, check out "Be my thrill," "I was made for sunny days" and "Gotta have you"  
**


End file.
